Magical Fluorescent Leaves
by BFTLandMWandSEK
Summary: A faithful Hetalia retelling of Walt Disney's 33rd animated feature "Pocahontas" starring Feliciano and Heinrich as the star-crossed lovers.
1. Chapter 1

**MW: **Ooh~ This is a nice AN space. A little small, but peaceful and nice. . .

**BFTL: ***running in*WOLF! GUES WHAT!

**MW: **-_- What?

**BFTL: **I'm proof reading this story!

**MW: **What about **SEK?**

**BFTL: **She didn't want to.

**MW: ***sigh* I'll deal with you later. . .

Hello people! And welcome to "Magical Fluorescent Leaves". As many of you may have noticed, yes, I am doing two stories at once. But have no fear, I will not have a problem with updating regularly.

As many of you may/not have realized, this is another Hetalia-Goes-Disney-story. This particular one is with Pocahontas.

I know that it really isn't my thing to jump onto the band wagon, but I (myself) am a little annoyed with the quality most (hence, MOST, not all) they are. The writers either do not take them seriously or they sacrifice the Hetalia cannon for the Disney one (with crack pairings and roles that do not make sense).

I am here to present a story that equally follows both cannons while keeping to the Hetalia cannon. This does mean that the Disney side might be changed here and there, but all changes are for a better purpose. Keeping this in mind, Pocahontas itself is not historically accurate and neither will MFL. In fact, you can say that this story takes place in an alternate universe.

Either way, I do hope that everyone—Disney fan or not –will enjoy this story. Remember to review!

**Story Summary: **Heinrich is a German sailing to the New World for the English king. Feli is the son of the leader of the Italian colonies. Can their love bring their worlds together or will their differences keep them apart?

**Chapter Summary: **As the English draw closer to the New World, Feli learns of his arranged marriage.

**Warnings: **Language, Yaoi, Lame Rescue Scene

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia or Pocahontas.

* * *

**~Chapter 1~ **

* * *

The winds battered the ship, forcing the rough waves onto the deck. All the sailors and explorers held the cannons, attempting to save themselves and their supplies. There was still another month to their trip- they could not afford to die now. Even in a storm fit to make even the strongest of men worried.

"_Some luck this is,"_ Heinrich thought sourly, trying to tie down a cannon of his own. The young adult, decked in black, glared down at the weapon through his blond bangs. The soaked metal slipped from his grasp, making his job ten times harder. The thunder boomed above him again. _"His highness better appreciate me being here._"

He thought back to his last visit with King Feliks. The man, lazing upon his throne had expressed his strong concern of the new governor's attentions. "We like, totally don't want him making his own country and junk with my lands," he said, waving a lazy hand in the air. There was always this flamboyant air to him. It must be his Polish lineage.

His mother, Queen Felicia, had married into the British royal family in order to form an alliance between the two nations. King Feliks than married the Duke of Lithuania, a timid man named Toris. He declared that it was "totally for political reasons", but even the poorest of civilians knew that it was for love. "_Marrying a man._" Heinrich could never help but to shutter at the very thought. It wasn't illegal or frowned upon, but the very idea always got him started. "_How could two men love each other?"_

So it came to his strong displeasure when Toris had to elaborate, "Everyone in court knows that Governor Kirkland disapproves of the alliance." The brunette's voice was gentle but firm. Rumor had it that by marrying the king, he was able to avoid an engagement with the Czar of Russia. "We are very concerned of what he might do if he is unsupervised."

Governor Kirkland: was there a possible way for Heinrich to describe such a man? His chest always seemed to be puffed out with a pompous air and his thick eyebrows were always drawn in a scowl. His emerald green eyes always matched the elaborate outfits he sported. Everyone at court knew how much he hated the idea of a non-English king reigning over his homeland.

Like any sane man, Heinrich didn't want to sail for months to the New World with him. No, he would rather just stay at home with his brother. But he owed so much to the King. When his brother Gilbert, a tall albino whose loud mouth always drew the wrong kind of attention, shot out his mouth to the Czar of Russia, it was Feliks who rescued him. Surely, this was the least he could do.

"Bruder!" Heinrich shot his gaze to Gilbert. His arms were wrapped around a cannon of his own as Roderich- a tall intelligent man who certainly did not belong on a ship -tried to tie it down. "Give the awesome me a hand!"

The younger brother tied off his cannon and rushed to his side. The ship rocked back and forth sending him on a zigzagged path. The rain blew into his face as the lightning made him experience a sensation of vertigo. How he just loathed sailing.

A large wave, bigger than any of the houses in London, rose above them before bearing down. The water engulfed them, sending Heinrich into the rail. The impact, though brief, shocked his back and knocked the breath out of him. The ship kicked up again and someone crashed into him.

"Sorry!" Heinrich groaned and pushed Elizaveta off of him. The brunette, older than him by a few years, was the prettiest and strongest woman he knew. Her eyes always shown with such joy- even in dangers like this. The German had to call on a few favors to give her permission to join their crew. At first, there were many doubters, claiming that she would not lift a finger to help them. But so far, she had done well- doing more work in an hour than the whole crew could in a week.

But Kirkland was not swayed. His old fashioned ways made him blind to how good of an asset she really was. He took whatever chance he could to berate her performance.

"Sorry Heinrich," she said, brushing away her embarrassment. "Just trying to save the cannons."

Thunder clapped in the sky above them. Another wave, the biggest yet, came down upon them. Heinrich held into the rail for dear life, feeling his chest ache with pressure. When the ship was clear again, he gasped for air. A few spurts of water came up as well, falling into the puddles at his feet. He stood alone.

"Elizaveta!" The man cried, feeling a surge of panic. A few other sailors glanced up from their work, wondering what was wrong.

"Man overboard!" Mathias, the crew's look out, rang a small bell and pointed to the black abyss surrounding them.

Without much thought, Heinrich pulled off his black coat and threw it onto the ground. He undid one of the ropes leading to the sails and tied it around his waist. Into the slowly calming waves he went, diving into its bitter cold grasp.

Gilbert released his cannon and lunged for the rope. "Damnit bruder!" He yelled, firmly grasping it. He could feel the hard surface burning and cutting at his skin. The storm may be starting to calm, but there were still waves bearing upon them. "Berwald! Vash!" He barked at the crew. "Give the awesome me a hand!"

Heinrich hit the water and lost all the air in his lungs. Through the watery haze, he made out Elizaveta's legs, kicking frantically in attempt to keep herself alive. He came to the surface and swam to her, cursing under his breath. Heinrich promised her father that he would take care of her. He went through too much to let him down now.

After what felt like years, he reached her. The brunette's hair stuck to her skin as she took large bites of air. The waves constantly bashed her, determined to keep her below surface. He wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged on the rope.

With the combined powers of Gilbert, Vash, Berwald, and many others, the two were lifted from the chilling water and up the ship's side. Gilbert pried them off the rope and laid them on the wet deck. They coughed up water, trying to get the blankets Tino gave them. The storm was finally cooling, leaving small patches of night sky above them.

The albino smiled down at them and gave a long laugh. "Keseses~! I am awesome," he declared. "I just save the lives of-" He knelt and slugged his arms around Heinrich and Elizaveta's shoulders. "-mein bruder and mein future wife." Immediatley, the girl slapped his arm away.

"You saved our lives?" Heinrich laughed before starting to cough. "I believe I did most of the work."

He pouted. "The awesome me helped. After all, this is my wife and bruder."

The girl scowled and smacked him again. "Not in your dreams," she snapped. As angry as she sounded, there was a laugh in her voice.

Gilbert pouted and pulled her closer. "Aw, why not?" he asked. "You're awesome. I'm awesome. We make the awesomest pair."

"I want a real man." Shaking, Elizaveta stood and wrapped an arm around Roderich. "Like Mister Edelstein." As the crew laughed, the man pushed his glasses further up his nose and blushed. But all too soon, the joy ended.

"Trouble on deck?" The crew immediately parted for their Governor. He wore a fancy red coat more suited for a pirate captain than himself. At least it complimented his acid eyes. From under a large brimmed, red hat, the blond looked down upon them, scrutinizing the scene.

To his right was his assistant- a bored Asian by the name of Tao. The sailors of the ship actually liked him. Tao did his best to help them out and contributed to their private jeers towards Kirkland. On the Governor's left was another blond. However, he was taller and much handsomer. His hair was wavy and his eyes were a stunning blue. This man, Francis Bonnefoy, was a friend of the governor's. Everyone had mixed feelings about him: he always aggravated the official, yet he also flirted with the crew.

Never a good combination.

Heinrich gathered his courage and stood. "Elizaveta fell overboard, sir," he said. He did his best to stand straight. Never give Kirkland a reason to believe you're weak because once he got a single whiff of it, he would hound you until you wanted to jump over board.

Kirkland's green eyes narrowed at the girl. She lifted her chin and frowned at him. Never show weakness. Never show fear. "Thank heavens she's been successfully retrieved," he growled, relentlessly glaring at her. "Well done, Beilschmidt."

"Thank you, sir."

Turning to the whole crew, Kirkland gave a pleased smile. "Don't lose heart men," he said. "It won't be long before we reach the New World, and remember what awaits us there: freedom—"

Francis smiled and agreed. "Oui."

"-Prosperity-"

"Oui, oui."

He shot his deadly glare at him. "Shut it Bonnefoy," he snapped. The crew giggled. The Frenchman merely smiled and cocked his eyebrows. Rebellious twat. Barely a second later, the governor remembered where he was and resumed a slimy-looking, pleased face. "As I was saying. . . the adventure of our lives await us. You are the finest crew England has to offer and nothing, not wind nor rain nor a thousand bloodthirsty savages shall stand in our way." He raised his hands up and rallied the men back to work. "Carry on men!"

The crew cheered him on as he and his subordinates slithered away. Heinrich was the only one frowning. His lips were pressed together in such displeasure that everyone had to notice. "What's wrong bruder?" Gilbert asked as the young man resumed his task of tying the cannons.

He sighed. He couldn't tell them about the king. He could however, tell them what they already know. "It's not blood thirsty savages we have to be worried about," he said, gathering the rope in his arms. "It's the Italian colonies."

When the New World was first discovered, England, France, and Spain were of the many countries to sponsor explorations. Italy allied with Spain through political marriage and was able to create a colony of their own a few miles off from where they were going to land. It had been blossoming there for the past twenty years or so.

Roderich sighed and took a seat on one of the crates. From his pocket, he drew a harmonica. He usually played the violin for them, but it was below deck in storage. "They're Italians," he said, giving the instrument a blow. A solid C note filled the air. "What harm can they do?"

"I've heard that they already wiped the savages of the area clean off the map," Vash said. He ran his fingers through the knots in his blond hair. "They can be blood thirsty when they want to."

Gilbert laughed and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Where did you hear that from? You're girlfriend?"

"Lili's my sister!" Vash snapped, looking horrified with the blush on his cheeks.

"Well I say we have no need to worry." The albino took Berwald's mop and raised it in the air like a musket. In a low, off key singing voice, he parodied the song of their company. "We'll kill ourselves an 'ingun or maybe two or three. . ."

As the men laughed and joined in, Heinrich sighed and continued with his work. "So immature," he muttered. He tied off the cannon and pulled the weapon back to its proper spot.

Like the woman she was known for, Elizaveta rushed behind him and spotted the cannon. "You have to admit, the New World sounds great," she said. A soft smile painted her face. "I'm going to dig myself a pile of gold, build myself a big house, and bring my family over here. What about you?"

"Same." Heinrich tied the rope around the railing. "Though if there is any gold, the Italians probably have it all."

"Then I'll blast them!" He cringed. Why was she as violent as she was beautiful? What ungodly thing happened to her that made her that way? She saw his face and sighed. "Cortez and Columbus did it," she said. "Why can't I?"

Heinrich cursed to himself. He couldn't let her believe that there was a different reason for him to be here. "Because then there'll be none left for me to blast," he laughed. He stepped away from the cannon and leaned against the rail.

The ocean was so much calmer. It swayed their ship gently, leading them to a new land to behold. He continued to ramble: "But I guess you're right. People just like us have been to hundreds of new worlds. What could possibly be so different about this one?"

* * *

"Ciao Heracles!" Romolus smiled broadly and hugged his brother-in-law, and assistant. He kissed both his cheeks- the proper greeting for Italians. A few miles inland from the shores of the New World laid the Italian colonies. There were three of them, around a hundred villagers for each. Since their formation, they had been lead by one man and that was Romolus Vargas.

He was a tall, brawny man who's carefree nature made him loved and hated by all. Curly brown hair laid in a mess on the top of his head, giving the perfect complement to his sparkling amber eyes.

Heracles, the brother of Romolus's deceased wife, was a few inches shorter than him. His hair was also brown and curly, though it brushed the sides of his chin. He swayed back and forth, snoring lightly under his breath as he held a fat cat in his arms. "Yah su Romolus," he yawned. "Did you enjoy your trip?"

"Si, I did." He looked proudly at his small little village. It was made of huts similar to those of the savages that once inhabited this land. There were maybe fifty of them- one for each family -, snug together in an earthly manner. At first, he wanted to build actual buildings, but Romulus soon discovered that the natives' way of living was much more convenient. Too bad the other colonies didn't realize that.

One village, a few miles north, had tried to declare independence from Italy. The leader had to take some of his men with him to quell the commotion. There was a small skirmish, but not many were hurt and no one died.

Heracles let himself be led away from his spot and too the village's center. The villagers, all dark-skinned, were gathered. Most of them were smiling, ecstatically hugging their warrior's return. "Your return . . . it brings . . . happiness," the brother-in-law yawned.

"Si, but there is some smiling faces I do not see." Romulus looked out to the river. Its surface was calm, steady, and undisturbed. "Where are my sons?"

". . . You know them . . ." He scratched the head of his cat. "Feli and Lovi . . . always out."

A gust of wind kicked up a pile of dead leaves into the air. They brushed pass him and into the river. Ripples formed, dotting the blue with circle after circle. The man sighed. "And Antonio's with them?"

" . . . he always is . . ."

* * *

"Feli! Lovi!" A small boy with brown hair glanced up from his drawing. He looked very similar to his father except his skin was slightly fairer. He wore a flowing green dress and white bonnet. Everyone knew he was a boy, yet they insisted dressing him in clothing fit for a cute little girl. Not that he minded- in fact, Feliciano Vargas loved how free his skinny legs felt.

Feli looked down and saw his brother's fiancé sitting in a canoe. Antonio was dressed like he always was- red clothes especially from Spain. His brown hair was so uncared for that he had to pull it back into a ponytail to keep it out of his face. Even from the edge of the cliff, Feli could clearly see the bright smile on his face. "Get down here!" he yelled. "You're papa's back!"

The boy immediately squealed. "Papa's back!" he repeated. He quickly closed his sketch book and turned to his brother. "Did you hear that, fratello?"

Lovino Vargas, to put it simply, was his polar opposite. He sat under a nearby tree, scowling as his nearly black bangs covered his honey eyes. He was also dressed in green, except he wore a vest and tanned trousers. "I heard the bastard the first time," he growled. Stiffly, he rose to his feet and stretched his arms. "Andiamo, let's go. The old man will yell at us if we keep him waiting any longer."

Feli nodded and skipped up to him. "Can we take the back way down?" he asked, notebook tucked safely under his arm. "I bet we can find berries that way."

The elder sighed, "No you idiot. That'll take longer. The bastard wants us home as soon as possible."

He cocked his head to the side. "Soon as possible?" he repeated. There was a short silence as it processed in his head. Without a warning, Feli took his brother's hand and dragged him towards the cliff. Lovino was too startled to stop him from making them both jump off the cliff and into the water below.

Normally, both of them would be screaming. But amidst the thrill of the wind rushing all around them, Feli found himself laughing before straightening his legs and going stream-lined into the water. Lovino, on the other hand, screamed every swear he knew before belly flopping on the surface.

Antonio winced and moved to the edge of the canoe. "Mis amigos!" He yelled, feeling panic rise inside of himself. Romulus would skin him alive is he found out he let his only sons die. "Where are you? Are you alright?" Maybe he could go back to Spain before that happens . . .

Lovino and Feli surfaced at the same time. "Fucking asshole!" The darker one yelled, spitting out a small spurt of water. "Why the fuck did you do that?"

"I'm sorry fratello!" All mirth left Feli as he started crying thick tears. "You just said that we had to be quick and the cliff was quicker and please don't kill m-"

The Spaniard smiled before roaring with laughter. "You had me worried there, mis amigos," he said. He paddled the canoe closer to them and offered them help up. "What were you two doing up there?" he asked, pulling Lovino up.

The older one pushed him away and pulled himself aboard. He took a seat across from his and crossed his arms over his chest. "Feli wanted to draw," he spat. "So I had to come with him."

"Draw?" Antonio's face was brighter than the sun's as he lifted the other boy into the air. "What were you drawing?"

Feli's small little feet touched the floor. He thanked him and took a seat right next to Lovino. "The ocean," he chirped. "I was trying to imagine how Spain and Italy look like."

Antonio smirked and started to paddle back to the village. "Both are hundreds of miles away, mi amigo. But one day I'll take you and Lovi to see them."

"Who said I wanted to see Spain, you stupid bastard?" Lovino demanded.

His fiancé laughed and ruffled his hair. "You don't if you don't want too. I just thought that maybe we should get married at one of the cathedrals."

"Like I said before bastard, 'I do not want to fucking marry you!'"

Antonio jumped across to him and wrapped him in a strong hug. "You're so cute when you're angry!" he sang.

It ended up taking the trio twenty minutes to sail back to the village. All of the cooing and name calling had delayed them for a little. Add the fact that Feli started to cry when he realized that he left his sketch book in the water had a long episode of condolences and shallow promises of getting him a new one.

Romulus stood at the village's center, telling the tale of the small skirmish to the public. He moved his rough hands around in the air, describing the fighting and negotiations clearly. The three stragglers stood at the edge, tuning in on the tale.

". . . The battle, though short, was a fierce one. Our warriors fought with courage, but none as bravely as -" He motioned to a man besides him. He was the tallest yet with the equal dark skin and hair of everyone else. However, covering most of his face was a vivid white mask. "- Sadiq Adnan. He attacked with the fierce strength of a thousand men. He has proven himself to be the greatest -"

Antonio nudged his Italian counterparts. "He's handsome," he whispered. He gave a small wink to Lovino. "Maybe you should marry him -" He was punched right in the face.

"Shut it, asshole," Lovino ordered, scowling deeply. He was silent for a long moment before he started blushing. "And besides, I'm marrying the tomato bastard."

As Antonio sighed and gave him an unwanted hug, Feli looked thoughtfully at Sadiq. There was a small stubble on his chin and a puff to his toned chest. His loose white shirt was tucked into his poofy trousers. He was many years older than Feli and hailed from the Arabian nation of Turkey. "He is handsome," Feli said to no one. "But he's kind of scary. . ."

"- tranquilizing every man in his path. Tonight, we feast in his honor." The villagers cheered, applauding the men. Feli cheered with them and pushed his way through the crowd. He was so small, most did not even notice him weaving through the jungle of their legs.

The moment he popped out, he ran to his father and hugged his waist. "Ciao papa!" He greeted, kissing Romulus's cheeks.

The man smiled down at him and did the same. "My son!" He patted Feli's back and bent to his height. "My you've gotten bigger!" he exclaimed. "Have you and your brother taken good care of the village while I was gone?"

Feli grinned and vigorously nodded. "Si! Signor Antonio helped too!"

He smiled. When his wife, Helen, had first died, both of his sons were tearful and incredibly difficult to be around. Feli would do nothing but cry as Lovino scared away anyone who tried to get close to him. But then, Antonio was sent from Spain to help monitor the colonies. It was part of the agreement Italy and Spain had with each other. Since his arrival, both of his sons had become so much happier. It was even to the point where Antonio asked permission to marry his eldest when he was of age. He only wished the same for the youngest. And now, that day had finally arrived.

"Where is your brother?" The brunette asked. Feli pointed to the couple. Lovino was swearing at Antonio as he tried to hug and cherish him. Romulus smiled and ushered his son to his hut, informing him that there was much to discuss.

His hut was the biggest one there. It was cool and sturdy- made of mud and sticks. There was a fire pit right under the hole in the roof and shelves lining the walls. Decorative bowls and other knickknacks filled the spots on it.

Feli trotted inside, saying, "Papa, for awhile now I've been having a very strange dream." He flipped onto the floor and childishly criss-crossed his legs. "I think it's telling me something's about to happen, something exciting."

Romulus smiled and pulled his deer skin cloak off. "Si, something exciting is about to happen."

His son squealed and jumped back to his feet. "Really?" He started jumping up and down in anticipation. "What is it?"

He turned proudly to his son and clapped his hands on his shoulders. "Sadiq has asked for your hand in marriage." Feli fell dead.

The smile never left his face, but an insecure look gleamed in his eyes. "Marry Sadiq?" he repeated. He slowly moved to the hut's flap and peeked outside. The very man they were discussing stood stock still as he talked with Gupta, another equally stoic man. "But he's so scary."

"My son, Sadiq will make a fine husband. He is loyal and strong and will keep you safe from harm."

"But Papa . . ." Feli couldn't find the words to describe the war in his head. He wanted to please his father, he really did, but he also wanted something more than just a good husband.

Romulus sighed. "It's because he's a man, isn't it?"

"What?" He shook his head fiercely. "No, no! I like men -"

"Just don't worry my son. It's alright to love other men!" Romulus looked to the ceiling and smirked. "Why, I remember this one man -"

"Papa!"

He laughed and patted Feli's back. "I want to show you something Feli." He led his son outside to the river. The surface was once again calm and cool. The sun made it glitter beautifully, reminding the son why he loved it so much. "I know that you are hesitant," Romulus said. "And so was your mother when she married me. But you will find love." The man reached down and picked up and small stone. "Just remember: The river is proud and strong. It cuts its way through mountains and valleys but one day it will join the ocean."

He threw the stone into the water, creating a soft splash. "Nothing, not the smallest of stones to the biggest of men -"

Feli looked up brightly at him and smiled. "Like you, Papa?"

"Si," He laughed scuffing the child's hair. "Like me. Nothing can change the steady flow of the river." Growing serious again, he bent to his height and embraced him. "This is the right path for you, Feli," he said. "Think about it."

The boy in green watched his father go, clutching his heart. Marry Sadiq. Could he really marry such a man? He didn't want to, but . . .

"Feli!" He shot his gaze to Antonio. He had a grumbling Lovino strung over his shoulder as he smiled happily. It looked as though he won the lover's squabble- again. "Where did you go?" he asked. "We thought Maximo was picking on you again."

Feli happily shook his head. "No, I was just talking to Papa."

Lovino lifted his head and barked, "Papa? What the hell does the old bastard want?"

"He wants me to be steady," Feli said, looking at the water behind him. "Like the river. . ."

The Spaniard released his captive and followed his gaze. "But mi amigo, rivers aren't steady," he said. Both of the Italians gave him a confused look.

"What the hell are you talking about, bastard?"

Antonio shrugged. "Well, it's like this: a river is always flowing, si? So you can never step in the same once twice. Plus animals splash around in it in order to survive and children- especially Michelle -love to play in it." He rested his hand on his chin and sighed. "There is nothing really steady about a river at all."

The Italians continued to stare at him. After a long moment, Lovino brushed his words away. "Whatever," he said. "Like anyone gives a damn."

"Signor Jones might!" Feli exclaimed. He took both of the men's hands and dragged them to their canoe. "Let's go ask him what he thinks!"

Lovino: "But that's thirty minutes of paddling!"

Antonio: "But mi amor, you'll be spending it with me."

"Fuck this shit!"

* * *

Kirkland looked out at the land before him. Finally, after months of sailing with the dumbest men Britain had to offer, he was finally here. He smirked to himself and backed away from the window. "Look at it Francis, isn't it a sight for sore eyes?"

The Frenchman was sprawled out across two plush chairs that matched the rest of the captain's quarters. On the walls were maps and images of the New World. "You obviously haven't been to Canada, mon ami," he said, taking a small sip of wine. "There'll be nothing but trees and rocks there."

"That's because the French are awful at choosing their lands," the other resorted. That twat of a king Feliks had ordered him to bring the French envoy with him on the trip. It had something to do with repairing the relations between the two nations, but he really hadn't been paying attention. All the blond could think about was how he'll like to wring his king's neck and claim the throne for true Brits. Not Poles.

Arthur sighed and took a seat at his desk. "And besides, the Italians are still here," he said. "If there wasn't gold here, then why else would they stay?"

Francis took another sip of his wine. "Laziness." Both of them could not help but to snicker. The cabin door flew open and Tao, trailed by Heinrich, came in. Tao was highly recommended by the king to assist the governor in his quest for gold. He actually had turned out to be a very helpful aid for him. Cooking food, cleaning his quarters, and- like now -escorting his pathetic crew to him.

Unlike Tao, the German was assigned to be here for reasons unbeknownst to him. Over all, he was a good choice- that is, except for dragging that woman on board with him. Any man of the sea knew how stupid it was to bring spare baggage on a year long voyage.

Heinrich lifted his blond head high and met his superior's eyes. "You called for me, sir?"

Kirkland smirked and cocked an eyebrow. What a straight forward guy. He liked people who were like that. "Yes, I did Beilschmidt." He motioned to the chair next to Francis. "Take a seat."

He gave a side glance to the Frenchman, shuddered, and said "I would prefer standing, sir."

Another thick eyebrow was raised. This man certainly did not fear him. In fact, he held an air of superiority towards him. The governor waved him off and continued with his work. "As we both know, you were assigned to be here," he said, rolling up a map of Virginia in his hands. "Do you agree with this statement?"

A drop of sweat creased the German's brow. "_Does he know I'm here to spy?"_ he wondered, looking straight into the man's emerald eyes. They were deep orbs, swirling as he manipulated the world to his image. Heinrich coughed and regained his lost composure. "Yes I do, sir."

"Then I can I count on you to make sure those filthy heathens don't disrupt our mission?" Kirkland smirked. "That is why his highness assigned you here, am I correct?"

On the outside, the blonde's stoic face did not change. "Yes you are sir," he agreed. "I believe that there will be no problem I can't handle." On the inside, however, he was breathing a sigh of relief. "_He doesn't know!" _He glorified the very thought. The savages wouldn't be a problem either. "_They're all gone from the area." _He mentally grumbled. "_But the Italians aren't."_

The governor nodded. "Right. That is all." Before Heinrich even had his hand on the doorknob, he quickly added, "One more thing: keep an eye on that woman- Héderváry -for me. We wouldn't want her causing any trouble. Understand?"

His back still to his superior, Heinrich grimaced. Unconsciously, he started to play with the iron cross around his head. All the males of his family wore one—it was a sign of ma hood. Just touching the cold surface reminded him not to lash out. He muttered, "Understood." He quickly left before any more orders could be given.

Kirkland sighed. "We'll be docking soon," he said. He buried his face in his hands and groaned. "Tao, give me a glass of scotch, would ya?" The quiet Asian nodded and did just that.

Francis gave his friend a concerned look. "Mon ami, you should not be drinking so early in the day," he said. "At this rate, you'll be raping Héderváry by sundown."

The green eyed man snatched the glass from Tao and downed the whole thing. "Shut it, you git," he snapped. "As a gentleman, I would never intentionally hurt a woman- Give me another Tao."

Francis stood and snatched the whole bottle from the assistant. "When you're sober!" he exclaimed. "When you're drunk, you don't give a damn about being a gentleman." Without so much as a second glance, he snapped his fingers at Tao. "Go help the crew dock," he ordered.

Tao shrugged. "Like, whatever." He left quickly.

The remaining blonds were silent for a long moment. Kirkland dared Francis to keep the bottle away from him whereas Francis dared Kirkland to try and take it from him. After a few minutes, Francis placed the bottle on the floor and clapped his friend's shoulders. "You have to stop doing this to yourself Arthur," he said. "I know you're better than this."

"Says who, git?" His voice was already slurring and his face turning a beat red. He banged his fist on this desk and snapped, "'Cause no one else thinks so."

"You can't possibly-"

"I know what those backstabbers at court say about me!"

Francis groaned, his own irritation rising. "You deserve it!"

"How, you bloody git?"

Francis banged his hands on the desk. "You openly harangue the king!" Kirkland jumped away, his face loosening. The Frenchman panted, feeling his own anger leave him. "You give everyone the right to hate you."

Kirkland pressed his lips. "No I-"

"You're own son thinks that you're a jerk." Francis turned on his heels and marched to the cabin door. With one foot out the door, he paused and spat, "I have not known you very long and yet I even I know that." He slammed the door shut behind him, leaving Kirkland alone.

The blond groaned and banged his head on the desk. This was why he needed to find the gold. He was going to show everyone that he was not pathetic. Arthur Kirkland, the world's finest gentleman was a force to be reckoned with.

He reached over and took the bottle of scotch off the floor. One day, even Peter would see that.

He poured himself another glass.

* * *

Signor Jones was not a person. No, he was a willow tree, smack in the middle of the widest part of the river. His drooping leaves curtain his little glen from the rest of the world. Feli, Antonio, and Lovino have been here many times before. When Helen was still alive, she'd make sure that her two sons knew about the wisdom they could harbor just by discussing the mere obscurities of life. Even after she died, Feli and Lovino continued to come, dragging their Spanish friend with them.

They paddled their canoe through the curtain of hanging leaves and to the willow's cracked bark. Feli excitedly jumped out of the boat and crawled on the roots to his usual spot in front of a circular smooth area on the bark. "Signor Jones! We're here!"

The wind picked up and blew dead leaves into it. The smooth spot crinkled together and started to stick out until a face of a young man was distinct. "Yo! Feli!" he called. "What's up? Are Lovi and Antonio married yet?"

"Don't fucking call me that!" Lovino yelled, taking his normal spot next to his fiancé on the roots.

"No, but that's what I wanted to talk to you about." Feli tugged at the ends of his dress and smooth out the wrinkles. "Papa wants me to marry Sadiq."

As Lovino started to scream and curse ("When the fuck did that old bastard want you to marry that asshole?"), Signor Jones's face turned sour. "But dude, he's so freaky," he said.

The little boy nodded. "I know."

Antonio wrapped a calm arm around the older brother and added, "But lately Feli's been having this dream and we think it's—"

"A dream!" The willow's branches swayed quickly in excitement. "Dude! Dreams are always so cool! Tell it! Tell it!"

Feli grinned broadly and told him. "Well, I'm running through the woods and then right there in front of me is an arrow. As I look at it, it starts to spin."

"A spinning arrow?" He roared with laughter that shook his roots. "Dude, that's so cool!"

"Si! It is!" Feli nodded happily. "The arrow spins faster and faster and faster until suddenly it stops."

Signor Jones thought about for a second. "Well it seems to be that this 'spinning arrow' is pointing you down you're path."

The Italian stood and pressed his hands to his chest. "But Signor Jones, what is my path?" he asked. "How do I know if it's what Papa tells me?"

The tree chuckled. "You're mother asked me the very same question."

Now, even Lovino was listening. Helen was considered to be very wise. If she benefitted from his advice, then they could as well. "Really?" Feli cutely tilted his head. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her to listen." Lovino smacked his head and groaned. "Just here me out," he hastily added. The tree always had to strive for Lovi's interest. "All around you are spirits. They live in the earth, the water, the sky. If you listen, they will guide you down your path." Vines decked in green leaves motioned the trio closer. "Give it a try. Tell me what you hear."

As Lovino rolled his, Feli and Antonio closed their eyes. They heard the forest and river around them, blending together into a beautiful melody. "I hear the wind," Feli whispered, afraid to break the peace.

Signore Jones smiled. "And what does it tell you?"

He listened for another minute. Out of the blue, Feli's wide eyes flew open. "S-something's coming!" he yelled. "Strange clouds!" He carefully placed his feet on the trunk and climbed his way to the top.

Antonio sighed as a disbelieving Lovino huffed, "Yeah right. What do you really see."

There was a pause as Feli finished climbing his way to the top. When his head popped through the leaves, he gasped and stared. "Uh, fratello. I see strange clouds."

"No fucking way!" Lovino yelled. He dashed up the tree, climbing after his brother. "How in the -" there was a short pause. "What the crapola is that?"

The Spaniard sighed and climbed up himself. Strange clouds? What in the world were they looking at? He climbed further through the branches until he reached the very top. He stuck himself his right in between the Italian's and looked out. There were large white squares in the sky. He laughed "Mis amigos, those are not clouds," he said. "Those are sails."

"Sails?" Feli look at him. "Like the ones on the ship you came on?"

"Si." He squinted his eyes, taking a peek at the crow's nest. "But I was not aware that there was a ship coming in soon."

Lovino looked at the flag. "Since when was the damn Spanish flag blue?"

Antonio's eyes went wide. If the flag was blue, that meant. . . "That is not a Spanish ship mi amor," he whispered. There was a small look of terror on his face. "That is a British one."

* * *

**MW: **It took John Smith and Pocahontas 30 minutes into the movie to meet for the first time. So obviously, they aren't going to meet each other in the 1st chapter.

So guys, what do ya think? First time writing a completely 3rd person chapter. Was it any good?

**BFTL: **It meets my standers. But shouldn't you tell everyone what the casting is?

**MW: **Fine. Here it is:

Feliciano Vargas [N. Italy]… Pocahontas

Heinrich Beilschmidt [Holy Roman Empire] ... John Smith

Arthur Kirkland [The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland] ... Governor Ratcliffe

Tao Wang [Hong Kong] . .. Wiggins

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo [Spain] ... Meeko

Romulus Vargas [The Great Roman Empire] ... Powhatan

Elizaveta Héderváry [Hungary] ... Thomas

Alfred F. Jones (referred to as 'Signor Jones') [The United States of America] ... Grandmother Willow

Francis Bonnefoy [France] ... Percy

Gilbert Beilschmidt [The Great Kingdom of Prussia] ... Ben

Roderich Edelstein [Austria] ... Lon

Lovino Vargas [S. Italy] ... Flit / Nakoma

Sadiq Adnan [Turkey] ... Kocoum

Heracles Karpusi [Greece] ... Kekata

Feliks Łukasiewicz [Poland] … King James the First

Toris Laurinaitis [Lithuania] … His Wife

Helen Karpusi Vargas [Ancient Greece] … Pocahontas's mother (arguably, the fluorescent Leaves)

Peter Kirkland [Sealand] … Kirkland's Son

The Nordics, Germanics, and Eastern Europeans … The English Sailors

The Mediterranean and Latinos … Other Italian Villagers

Matthew Williams [Who?] … The Wind

**BFTL: **Wow, that's a lot.

**MW: **Yes, this movie has a case of 'sidekick' syndrome. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this.

**BFTL: **Yes, because I made a YouTube video using this casting (link in our profile) so you all better support this.

**MW: **Right. . . Please note that the reason why Kirkland is the wearing a red coat and Antonio having long hair is because they are both in their pirate forms. So hot~

Anyways, let us pray to the fan fiction gods.

Dear fan fiction gods of anime, Hetalia, Disney, crossovers, Romance, Drama, Humor, and many others. We pray that no one is offended by this prayer and that you bless us with many reviews. Amen.

**Funfacts and Translations**

"Yah su" Hello. Greek.

"Andiamo" Let's go. Italian.

"Mis amigos!" My friends! Spanish

"Mi amor" My love. Spanish

"Kirkland" In the movie, they referred to Governor Radcliff as "Radcliff", so I'm just following their lead. And besides, calling Arthur just by his last name is hot :3

**Next Chapter: **Heinrich and Feli meet for the first time. But will rising tensions ruin everything?

**SEK: **Did you guys just do an AN without me? Oh, you two are so screw!

**REVIEW AND TELL US WHAT YOU THINK. EVEN IF IT IS JUST TO SAY WE OFFENDED YOU WITH THAT LITTLE FAN FICTION GODS THING. **


	2. Chapter 2

**SEK:** How can you two just host an AN without me?

**MW: **Well you certainly don't proofread this so I didn't think that it was necessary!

**SEK: ***slaps her* Idiot! Dontcha get it? I'm your good luck charm! If I'm not here then your story popularity decreases by tenfold!

**BFTL: **She has a point. . .

**MW: **But we got three reviews!

**SEK: **That's nothing!

**MW: **It's more than what HETA got on its first chapter!

**BFTL:** It doesn't seem as though they're going to stop any time soon.

Anyways, we thank you all for reviewing! Even though **SEK** isn't, **MW** and I are very grateful. We hope you guys enjoy this (fail) chapter!

**Chapter Summary: **Heinrich and Feli take their sweet time meeting each other.

**Warnings: **Language and Explosives

**Disclaimer: **No one here owns Hetalia or Pocahontas. Please do not sue us.

* * *

**~Chapter 2~**

* * *

Elizaveta and Roderich leaned into the rail of their ship, gazing at the distant shores of Virginia. Both stared at the tall, green conifer trees, extending into the bluest sky they've ever seen. It was nothing like Europe. It was a completely different world. "It's incredible," Roderich sighed, a small smile dancing on his lips. "I think I will like living here."

"And it's all ours," The girl added, drifting into her own fantasies. She could picture it now: living in a grand house, merrily slaving away in the kitchen. Her father was sitting in the rocker as her mother mended the clothing. Outside, her little brothers and sisters were watching the Gilbert—Gilbert? What was he doing there? _"He's a jerk!"_She thought angrily, ousting him from her mind. _"Why do I need him?"_

On cue, Gilbert shoved the two apart and threw a rope ladder down the boat. Elizaveta nearly snapped at him to go away, but she resisted. What if Kirkland sees? The ladder ended by the rowboat floating at the base. "It can look like Kirkland's godforsaken knickers for all I care," he drawled. "As long as I get off this freaking boat!"

"Mes amis-" They groaned collectively as Francis slithered next to the Hungarian. There was his usual smile on his face as he said, "You should know that Arthur's knickers are tres beau."

Elizaveta pressed her lips together and planted her hands on her hips. "And how would you know?" she asked. "Have you been getting close to the governor?"

He laughed and winked. "Ohonhonhon~! Only as close as he wants me too."

Before she could muster a reply (what could she possibly say to that?), Heinrich eagerly strutted up to them. He wore a loose, black shirt under the silver armor over his chest. His tan trousers were stuffed into brown leather boots. "Come on men," he said, heaving his satchel over his shoulder. He swung his leg over the side and started his descent down. "We didn't come all this way just to look at it."

They stared at him. He wouldn't be so happy if he knew what their conversation was. Francis ran his fingers through his blond hair before starting to make his way down. Grudgingly, he muttered, "And besides, Kirkland doesn't wear knickers."

The Hungarian heard him and felt her stomach acid rise up her throat. Oh God.

* * *

Feli, Lovino, and Antonio huddled together in a nearby tree, silently watching as the newcomers rowed their way to land. "They're so pale," the youngest said, seeing them stomp their feet onto the sandy shores. Never in his life had he seen yellow hair before. It was bizarre- something from the stories Romulus told. Then there was their eyes! It was the same color as the ocean and sky. How odd. Feli tugged lightly on Antonio's shirt. "Where are they from?"

The Spaniard gazed intently at the sight, dissecting each man one by one. "It really depends," he said. "So many diverse races live in England right now. They could be Irish, German, Nordic, anything."

"Tomato bastard, we should tell the old man," Lovino said, nervously scratching away at their tree's old bark. "These bastards look like they're going to fuck this place."

Antonio hushed him, waving a careless hand at his face. "Don't worry, mi amore. I just want to get an approximate head count before we tell your Papa. As long as we don't make any official contact-"

"Look, a pretty girl!" Feli yelled, pulling on him as he pointed to Elizaveta. Antonio didn't see it coming and fell out off the tree.

Loudly.

The very Hungarian they were talking about shot her gaze to the woods behind them. Her heart beat picked up and the rope in her hands bathed in her sweat. The man was hidden behind a bush, shielded from her sight. For all she knew, there was a wolf or some other predator waiting to kill them all.

"Is something wrong?" Heinrich asked, noting her face. Fear clearly glinted in her green eyes. "Did you see something?"

Slowly, she shook her head. "No I didn't, but. . ." Elizaveta hesitantly returned to helping the men pull the boat to shore. "I thought I heard something."

The German could not help but to smile. That was another thing he admired her for: her strong will to be selfless. If only his idiotic older brother could be more like her. "You stay here," he said. "I'll go check it out."

He purposely marched to the danger zone, ignoring the girl's persistent calls for him to leave it alone. Antonio's breath hitched. "Mierda," he cursed, pushing himself closer into the bush. His back was completely pressed against the tree trunk; he was trapped.

The pale man continued to strut towards him, muttering in German something about it being just a rabbit. Not that the tanned skin men understood him.

Lovino was sweating in panic as his brother whimpered. The tomato bastard was going to get himself killed. There was no way the Italian was about to let that happen- not that he cared. Feli would be sad if Antonio had a bullet in the head. Without a second thought, he reached into his bag and pulled out a bright red tomato. He was going to eat that for lunch, but. . .

Heinrich, barely a step from the bush when he was met with a tomato to the face. "Was zum Teufel?" he yelled, trying to wipe away the red mush. The brothers jumped from the tree and Antonio scurried from his bush. By the time the German's face was clean, all three of them were gone.

"What was that?" he muttered, darting his eyes around. There had to have been something there. Like a human . . .

"Heinrich!" he groaned at the sound of his brother's voice. "Get your awesome arsch over here! The governor's coming ashore!" He sighed. Great, now he would have to listen to the claiming speech of this land. Again, Gilbert called, "If you don't get your butt over here now, I'm going to kick it with my awesomeness!"

Again, Heinrich sighed. So immature. "I'm coming!" He called, turning on his heels and returning to his crew. He didn't give the incident a second thought.

* * *

"Romulus!" Antonio, trailed by Feli and Lovino, flew into the Italian's hut. Every seat was occupied by the village's citizens- men and women. As tradition to their town meetings, a orange fire was blazing at the center, giving off smoke that rose into the air and out the ceiling hole. They all stared at them. What was so important that he had to disrupt the meeting? Antonio immediately approached the leader and stared into his brown eyes. "Someone just landed on the coast a few miles south of here," he reported, slight panic in his normally joyful voice.

Mummers filled the room. A ship? They very rarely had contact with their mother countries- what could a ship possibly be doing there? Romulus shrugged it off, gently placing a hand on his shoulder and saying, "Antonio; it's just a ship. What could be so bad about-"

His green eyes spoke the urgency his voice had. "It's British." A hard rock landed on the atmosphere. Nobody said a word. They- the Italians -were allied with Spain. The conflict between Spain and Britain was well known. There was no reason for them not to be attacked. Michelle, a tanned girl previously owned by a British gentleman, burst into tears. Few made a move to comfort her.

Sadiq took a step out of his corner. "The British?" He huffed. "Those jackasses aren't even worth our time."

Heracles hushed him, "Quiet. . .Sadiq. . ." Feli and his father helped to lift his long time enemy to his feet. A gray kitten was seated in his arms as he yawned and talked half asleep. "These are not men . . . like us. . . Their weapons . . . far out due ours . . . They prowl the earth . . . consuming everything . . . in their path. . ."

The Turkish man waved his fist and glared at his enemy. He spat at the Greek's feet and snarled, "Really jackass? Are you fucking challenging me?" Feli shuddered at hid behind Lovino. To lash out so easily at a person- he definitely did not want to marry him. Sadiq turned from his enemy and addressed their own governor, saying, "Great Romulus. I will lead our warriors to the river and attack. We will destroy these jackasses the way we destroyed the rebel colonies."

Lovino and Feliciano watched in secret awe as their father carefully weighed their options. Barely anyone in the village knew English and he highly doubted that any of the newcomers knew Italian or any of the other Mediterranean languages. Michelle knew French, but the terrible memories of her enslavement made her too distraught to even breathe properly.

Slowly, Romulus projected his voice to everyone gathered in his home. "Sadiq, in that battle we knew how to fight our enemy," he said. "But none of us- even me -have been to Europe for twenty years. Weapons and relations might have changed without our knowledge. Take some men to the river to observe, but do not fight them." He down casted his eyes and gave a worried sigh. "Let us hope they do not intend to stay."

The foreboding presences made Feli want to cry. The myriad of tense pressure inside made his airways choke. Air, the boy needed air. His legs moved by themselves. They quickly carried him outside and down to the river. Like always, the surface was calm and glassy.

He took a seat by the shore and looked down at it. His reflection- a teary-eyed child -stared back at him. These new people were scary. They seemed like they wanted to hurt them. The blond man from before came to his mind. "_But not him,_" Feli decided. The man appeared to be rather nice. Sure, he did nearly discover Antonio, but he looked as though he was trying to help the pretty girl. Plus there was something warm and soft about his small, slight smile.

And those eyes- blue like ice. They never acknowledged his presence, yet they cut through his sheer being. To the Italian, it was odd, new, and fascinating.

"Fratello." Feli jumped and screamed. "Calm down!" Lovino irritably snapped, making his presence more defined. "It's just me!"

He giggled, trying to cover up his embarrassment. "Sorry fratello," he apologized, rising to his feet. "I didn't know it was you."

The child with amber eyes groaned. "Whatever," he groaned, habitually fixing his brother's white bonnet. "We have to get going," he said. "The old man wants us to join the other bastards in the watch."

"Really?" To the elder's surprised, Feli sounded happy. The boy was not going to like being around all of these scary men, or having to wield a scary gun, but if he could see that blond one more time, he would be happy.

Lovino rolled his eyes, indifferent to the other's change in demeanor. His fratelllo was always this uncouth.

* * *

Heinrich, along with the majority of the crew, grudgingly stood stock still as Kirkland made his grand speech. The sun was intense and they were still unaccustomed to land. Their worlds swayed and their stomachs were upset. All Heinrich wanted to do was rest in the cool shade, away from the Brit and his silly monologue. But, as part of the job (and the German's cover), they all had to listen to him ramble on and on.

". . . Therefore, I hereby claim this land and all its riches in the name of His Majesty-" Kirkland paused and gripped the rod to their proud Union Jack tighter. The pungent smell of scotch wafted from his mouth, fowling the air. "-King Feliks the first, and do so name this settlement Felikstown." Finally finished, the pale crew gathered to energy to give a rowdy cheer. "Carry on men," the blond ordered. "I want everything unloaded within the hour."

Tao lazily clapped his hands together, looking bored as he watched the last of the cargo be carried box by box from the row boats. "Like, bravo," He praised, voice monotone as rolled his dark eyes. "Like, beautifully spoken, sir."

His boss drew his lips into a tight smile. "Cheer up mate," he grinned, slapping his hand onto his back. The Asian winced. "This is the New World, there are bound to be enough adventure for all of us. Speaking on which. . ." He shot his head to where Heinrich and Elizaveta were helping Roderich fish his violin from a wooden crate. None of them realized that Gilbert had stolen it and was trying to sell it to Ari a few feet away. "Beilschmidt, come over here!" he barked.

Heinrich hunched his shoulders as his friends gave him silent, sympathetic groans. Dragging his feet on the ground, he slowly made his way to the governor. What could that pompous tart want now? He pushed his thoughts aside and placed a polite tone in his voice. "Yes sir?"

Kirkland took his arm and pulled him closer to the thick forest. "It appears I've selected the perfect location, eh?" He asked, a smug look on his rich face. "Not a savage in sight."

"_How many times must I explain this?"_ The urge for the German to smack his forehead was puissant, but he resisted. Just barely. Show no weakness, show no fear. "It's not the savages I'm worried about," he said, pointing his finger into the milieu of green. "It's the Italians."

A sour look painted his boss's face. Did one of his own men imply that he was incapable, stupid even? "Perhaps you should venture forth and determine their whereabouts," he spat. "Go find these Italians and get rid of them."

The smallest of smiles formed on his thin lips. "Yes sir," Heinrich said, sounding a little too eager about the idea. _"Anything to get away from you._" He hurried off unexcused. In less than a minute, he had his sack filled with food and his gun over his shoulder. The boy only said goodbye to his brother before stepping boldly into the uncharted land.

Arthur Kirkland watched him go, a foul taste in his mouth. In the most improper manner—one so unlike a proper British gentleman -he gathered a wad of saliva into his mouth and spat it into the ground. With a hot head, he quickly turned, the ends of his red coat circling around him. He looked like a blazing forest fire, ready to destroy anything in its path. Naturally, all of his men paid their respectful heed. Show no weakness, show no fear.

He pointed to two young men named Ravis and Eduard. "You men, finish unloading the ship," he ordered. Like a compass, he changed course to Vash, Vladimir, Ari, and many others. "You men, start building the fort. And-" Gilbert, Roderich, Tino, and Lukas were among those who were left. "The rest of you, gather the shovels and start digging."

Roderich and Gilbert exchanged a mutual look. "Digging?" they chorused. Both of their faces showed a mixture of disgust and confusion. It was the first time in either of their lives that they shared a mutual thought. Many of the other men knitted their brows together in the same confusion. Why would they need to dig? Latrines?

"Why, of course!" Kirkland gave them a fake confident smile. "Let's not forget what the Spanish found when they came to the New World—" he waved a hand decked with rings to the world behind him. "-_Gold,_ mountains of it. Why, for years they've been ravaging the New World of its most precious resources, but now it's our turn. Are we just going to sit around as they continue to grow richer? Imagine the legends they will tell of us when we uncover the riches of Virginia."

Grandly, he brought his arm back to his side and smiled broader. "Cut down the trees and mine the soil," he ordered. "Questions?"

Gilbert immediately shot his hand to the sky. "Ja! I do!" He yelled. "Why does the awesome me have to do this?"He demanded. Tino and Elizaveta snuffled their giggles as Roderich rolled his eyes.

Kirkland's scowl only grew deeper. "Because I ordered it," he snapped. "Now get to work." Just as he started to storm away, he felt a hand lightly touch his shoulder.

He found that Hungarian woman standing behind him, puffing her chest out and trying to look strong. "Sir, what am I to do?" she asked, looking straight ahead. "You did not assign me an assignment." Show no weakness, show no fear.

His lip curled with disgust. "Stay out of the way," he ordered, brushing by her. "_Stupid wench,_" he thought, just waiting for her to complain. Elizaveta didn't. Instead, she sealed her lips shut and clenched her fist. "_Sod off."_

* * *

The Italians crouched in the trees and behind bushes, watching the strange, pale men work. They sawed away the trees, grunting at their Herculean task. There seemed to be an endless supply of them- Gupta had returned earlier to report over a hundred men digging and many more still on the ship.

Feli was more afraid than usual. These men looked so scary- especially the one in the red coat. The way his foreign tongue slashed at that beautiful woman made his heart ached. Constantly, he was putting aside the gun given to him in order to wipe his trembling hands on his skirt. The man in red had sent away the fascinating blond away and into the forest earlier. It was a mistake to come there. Feli's motivation to be there was gone- all he wanted to do was go home.

A strong hand rested on his shoulder. "It's alright Feli," Sadiq whispered, taking a seat next to him. His signature white battle mask covered half of his face, making him appear ominous and somber. The comfort he aimed for was lost in his intimidating aura, which was why he wore that mask in the first place. To terrify his enemies before he struck. "I'll protect you."

The boy shuddered and grinned nervously. "Grazie," he muttered, not bothering to hide his trepidation. They were silent for a very long moment. "Can I go home?" he asked, his large eyes pleading. "I don't like it here."

The Turk paused. Did he do something wrong? Surly, Feli was aware of his proposal. . . "Of course you can," he said. His large hand took the discarded gun off the ground and placed it on the other's lap. "Just bring your weapon with you-"

"Oi, bastard!" Immediately, every man around Lovino hissed for him to be quiet. The hot head ignored them and demanded, "Let me go too. No way am I allowing my fratello get mauled by a bunch of English bastards."

Before their scout leader could give him the right away, the older brother had Feli by the arm and was dragging him away. Sadiq softly groaned. And to think that he was originally going to ask for Lovino's hand in marriage. "No worries, mi amigo," Antonio said, rising to his own feet. A large ax- his favorite weapon -was laid over his shoulders. "I'll make sure that they're okay." That was, of course, until the Spaniard beat him to it. Not that he was bitter; Feli was a much better offer.

He turned his gaze back to the invaders. "Go ahead," he whispered. The man was already out of earshot when he thought to add, "Make sure both of them are safe."

When Antonio reached his charges, they were warily making their way back to the village. Their outdated muskets were strapped onto their backs and the barrels nearly brushed over both of their curls. Both of their heads were hung in a somber low. Both of them were too scared to say a word. In a similar manner, the man took his spot next to his fiancé and the walked in silence.

It was disturbing about seeing those pale men walk freely in their territory. None of the rightful owners could understand any of them. For all they knew, they were planning to raid their comfy colonies. People like Michelle would be forced back onto imprisonment. Every man would have to fight and die. The chilling thoughts banged around their heads, making all of them want to escape into the safety of their dreams. Sleep, they all just wanted to sleep. Run away from his nightmare to a place where familiar things existed. Like Helen . . .

There was a rustling noise behind them. Distinctively, Antonio grabbed the Vargas brothers' arms and pulled them into the safety of the woods. "What the hell are you doing?" Lovino demanded. Immediately, a hand was slapped over his mouth.

"Be quiet, mi amore," he hissed as Feli shook in undeniable fear. His free arm wrapped around the youngest and he drew circles on the skin of his arm. "You're safe," he whispered. "Be quiet. You're safe."

After what felt like a year and a day, a man hiked by them. He was one of the pale men, decked in black garments and armed with the most advanced musket any of them had ever seen. Feli recognized him immediately—he was the person his fratello threw the tomato at. He was here! A bubble of joy swelled inside of him; maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to go there after all.

Luck for them, he was oblivious to the milieu around him . His piercing blue eyes were concentrating on a compass. "Westen," he muttered, his tongue completely foreign to them. "Immer nach Westen."

The sound of crunching leaves trailed after him as he continued on, determined to stay in his direction. His demeanor was strangely congenial. He certainly was not like the monster in the red coat. To Feli, if his skin and hair was darker, he could be one of them.

At last, Antonio released them and he jumped from his grasp and hiding spot. "Did you see him?" Feli asked zealously, practically dancing in his spot. "It's the man from before!" He wanted chase after him, see where he was going.

"Of course we fucking saw him," Lovino snapped, brushing the dirt off his tanned pants. "How could we not?"

His lower lip trembled. "I'm sorry!" He yelled, feeling thick tears start to fall from his eyes. Distinctively, he hugged his brother around the waist, crying into his green shirt. "I didn't mean to make fratello upset!"

Immediately, he pulled his younger half off. "Get the fuck off of me!"

Antonio ignored them and looked down the path the blond traveled. His ax was upright, used as a staff for support. "He's going westward," he commented. "He'll eventually run into the river."

Feli smiled, released his brother, and started jumping up and down in excitement. "Let's meet him there!" He suggested, already speeding down to the river. He knew the short cut, he could beat him there.

"Wait!" Lovino cursed a string of swears and ran after his brother. His fiancé hurriedly picked his ax onto of the ground and chased after them. This was not going to end well.

* * *

"_This isn't too bad,"_ Heinrich thought, pushing his way through the trees. His compass, solid and made of brown wood, was safe in his strong hands. When he had told his brother about the expedition, Gilbert had given him the "awesome" tool. At that moment, the man was extremely grateful. With it, he was safe from getting lost.

It had taken him awhile to relax enough to actually take in his surroundings. "_This place is beautiful,_" he thought, smiling softly. "_It might not be too bad staying here."_

At last, he stepped out of the forest and to the shores of a clam river. There was a loud waterfall, crashing into the blue surface, creating a thick, white mist all around. The roar was calming, easing his stress more and more. Heinrich sighed and took a seat on the grass.

Here, who needed people like Kirkland, or the king? The German could imagine just staying in the place forever. In truth, he wouldn't mind just resting in that spot for the next hour or so. He hid his compass back into his bag and started undoing his boots.

In the distance, there were the echoing booms of who knows what. _"Please don't let them be gunfire,_" he prayed, looking up to the sky. He didn't want any fighting, any deaths. Especially if it was by his brother's own ignorance.

* * *

Francis shielded his flawless face from the smoke, coughing through the thick smoke gathering "Sacre bleu!" he cursed, hacking the dust from his lungs. "Arthur! What in Dieu's name are you doing?"

Another explosive went off, causing two more trees to fall to their feet. Kirkland paid no heed to the dangerous conditions as strode up to his envoy. "Getting rid of those blasted trees," he stated plainly. "The wood can be used for building the forts and making their fires. Plus, the land is cleared for the digging-"

The Frenchman snapped, "With explosives?"

"Yes. Tao used to specialize in them in Hon Kong and brought a few crates with him." The governor's green eyes danced with a taunting mirth. "Why? Is there a problem?"

Coughing, the blonde nodded. "Oui, of course there is!" He pointed to the destruction they've caused. "Those trees could have been exported back to England and France as lumber for a decent profit!"

Kirkland mighty laughed, "Not as much as a profit the gold will be."

"Didn't you listen to me before?" Boldly, he gripped his fellow's shoulders and shook them. "There will be nothing here! This whole expedition is a waste of money!" Kirkland shoved him away as if he was more noxious than the plague.

"Get your slimy hands off of me!" He barked, raising a hand to strike him. For a minute, he froze and chose his next move carefully. The Brit slowly lowered it, softly saying, "There is gold here. I can sense it."

Francis snarled and spat at his feet. "The only thing I can sense is your pride," he sneered, storming off into the woods. He didn't care where he was going or if he got lost. The only thing that mattered was that he escaped that insufferable Brit.

Kirkland watched him go, not caring in the slightest bit. He was going to find gold here. Riches the world has never seen before would be exported back to England. Then King Feliks would knight- no, lord him. Every man who had ever mocked the Kirkland name would squirm and the ladies at court would see him as a true gentleman. His social status would rise to the point where Peter, when their majesties had their child, can successfully marry into the royal family.

England would have a British king once again. A capable, fully fledged, British king.

* * *

Heinrich lowered his feet into the cool water. They ached so badly from months of constant work. Already, they felt refreshed and new. A content sound left lips and his eyes fell shut. He stay in this strange world for forever . . .

But he couldn't. Kirkland would kill him if he didn't return soon. The booms were still echoing in the air. _"Is there a skirmish?"_ The German wondered, pulling his boots back on. Was Gilbert okay? He better have not been playing the hero and getting himself killed. He lost him to the Russians once and he was not about to lose him again.

There was a small flash. It was of a soft green, just across of him. Heinrich looked up, but it was no longer there. Quickly, he realized what that meant. _"I'm being watched."_ Cautiously, he pulled his last boot on tight and rose. _"Who could be out there?"_

Feli gathered his skirt and hid behind the tree by the waterfall. He didn't want the strange man to see him just yet. He wanted to approach him carefully, like a dog with his new master. For all he knew, he might scare the pale man away.

Carefully, Heinrich pulled his satchel over his shoulder and took his musket in hand. It was already loaded; he just had to light the fuse. He didn't want to kill anything, but what if whatever—or whoever –was out there wanted to kill him? He couldn't die just yet.

As slow as a turtle, The German started to walk away, listening for his stalker

The Italian sneaked another look from around the tree and saw the other go. Gracefully, he pulled up his skirt and jumped to a nearby rock in the water. He had to stay by him a little longer. He just had to.

Heinrich discreetly lit the fuse and readied himself. Again, the rustling sound met his ears. Taking a long breath, he snapped around and aimed his weapon at . . .

A harmless little girl.

A small wind blew, kicking up her in a dirty green dress like a fluttering butterfly. The girl squeaked and jumped back a bit. She looked petrified by the sight of him. Yet, there was a curious gleam in her brown eyes. The German boy could not help but to stare into them. 'She' could not help but to stare back.

Nothing moved. Even the water seemed to pause.

Feli was the prettiest girl Heinrich had even seen.

* * *

**MW: **Silly Heinrich, Feli is a BOY, not a GIRL. Oh how I love to tie in cannon things with the spin-offs. Right guys?

**SEK: **You're not going to write a snappy AN, aren't you?

**MW: **Look, I got to get this done before dinner. So instead of making you all laugh, I'm just going to bribe you all. Review and **BFTL **will sing a song about DAT ASS. Got it?

**BFTL: **When did I agree to this?

**MW: **It's in your contract hon. So everyone, review!

**Funfacts and Translations**

"Mierda" Shit. Spanish

"Was zum Teufel?" What the hell? German.

"Felikstown" I had to.

"Immer nach Westen." Keep going west. German.

**Next Chapter: **The romance starts. Finally.

*****REVIEW TO HEAR THAT MAGNIFICENT SONG*****


	3. Chapter 3

**MW: **Must stop trying to put chapters up in a hurry, I never have enough time to edit...

Thank you **coutooki** (I spelled that wrong) for being the only person to review last chapter. I'm glad that you did, but since no one else bothered to, there will be no song.

So people, I apologize for the long wait and short chapter, but I hope that you all enjoy.

**Chapter Summary: **Romance lingers in the air.

**Warnings: **Lanuage

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Hetalia or Disney. A bunch of rich people do.

* * *

**~Chapter 3~**

* * *

Quickly, Heinrich placed his weapon to the ground. "I'm sorry," he said, raising his hands in the universal sign of weaponless. Slowly, he crept closer to the water's edge. Feli was like a rabbit, prepared to scamper away at any second. "Don't be afraid."

"Chi stai sta?" Feli asked, tilting his head to the side. There was that oblivious look on his face.

Heinrich's face softened. "You're Italian," he stated. A groan nearly left his lips. "You don't understand a word I'm saying then." He straightened up and cleared his throat. He was a rich man, his family has dealt with businesses from around Europe, including Italy. "Il mio nome è Heinrich Beilschmidt," he introduced, speaking perfect Italian. "My name is Heinrich Beilschmidt. What is yours?"

The boy's brown eyes softened and his stance loosened. "Feliciano Vargas," he said. Heinrich smiled. What a strange name for a little girl. "But everyone calls me Feli." That was cute though. He could live with that.

The blond waded into the water and held out his hands. "Alright Feli, I'll carry you to shore," he offered. The other stared at him, as if deciding if he should dare. Just when it seemed as though Feli would run away, the child nodded and allowed the other to pick him up. Heinrich looked older than him by a few years, already stretching into his mid teens. Feli was barely brushed thirteen and it was a long way before he hit puberty.

"Fratello!" Lovino bursted from the other side of the shore. To see his brother in the arms of another man only made the situation worst. "Get the fuck away from my brother, you bastard!" he yelled, gaining a deadly look in his eyes.

Heinrich resisted the urge to hold Feli protectively in his arms. "No fratello!" The Italian yelled. "It's alright!"

"Feli!" Antonio ran from the trees to their right. He swung his ax in big circles in the air before planting his feet a distance from the German. The weapon was pointed at his face, threatening to slit his throat. "Get away from Feli," the Spainard growled.

The pale man anxiously took a step back. Maybe this was not such a good idea. "I'm not going to hurt her!" He declared, dancing his gaze between the both of the threatening men. "I'm not going to hurt any of you!"

Green eyes continued to glared at him. "What is your name?" the conquistador growled, pointing the blade closer towards him. The second the German told him, Antonio lowered his weapon. "Heinrich Beilschmidt?" he repeated. His face turned beatific and he lowered the ax. "You're Gilbert's brother!"

This only made him and the two Italians confused. "Ja. Who are you?" he asked, feeling braver.

"Antonio Fernandez Carriedo." That name was familiar. Heinrich could remember Gilbert telling him about his trips around Europe with their father. It was part of their job, checking on the businessmen who bought their imported goods. One time, he mentioned a Spanish man who was leaving for the New World. A Spanish man named Antonio Fernandez Carriedo.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," he said. "My brother's spoken fondly of you." Awkwardly, he motioned to the shore. "Why don't we sit down and talk this through." With Lovino as the only objection, the blond carried Feli across the water and to the sand.

"_What have I gotten myself into?"_ He wondered, lowering Feli to the ground. The child smiled at him and gave his thanks. Heinrich felt his face turn a light shade of scarlet. "_What is wrong with me?"_

* * *

"That's it. Keep at it, men. Keep digging." The English crew silently groaned as Kirkland strode among their myriad of holes. It had only been over a few hours and yet he was already expecting miracle results. If they hated him before, they loathed him now.

The man's acid eyes cut through them and to the trees beyond their camp. Was it just him, or did he see something? He could have sworn that a bush had just rustled. The blonde shook his head. It must had been from all that scotch earlier.

The governor paused by a rather deep hole. In the ditch, sleeves rolled up and hair in a terrible mess, was Elizaveta. Sweat fell thickly off her brow as she stabbed the tip of the shovel into the ground and dug deeper and deeper. Immediately, Kirkland wanted her gone. Women were sinners- every good Christian new that. If this wench even found a trace of gold, she would just pocket it for herself.

Sneering, he coughed and drew her attention. "Have you found anything yet?" he sneered, coating his words with an extra dose of hatred.

The woman stuck the tool into the ground and looked up at him. "Nothing yet, sir." She replied, rubbing her sore hands together. There was a sick politeness in her voice, as if she was doing her best not to attack her superior. "Just rocks and dirt." Show no weakness, show no fear.

Before he could speculate more about her dishonesty, Gilbert climbed out of a hole. He was covered head to toe in mud. Even his normally white hair was a dirty brown shade. There were blisters developing on his hands, revealing the plush life he used to live. "How much longer are we going to keep digging like this?" he demanded, getting right into Kirkland's face. His red eyes shone with the anger Elizaveta worked hard to hide. "We're slaving away, busting our backs, day and night and we haven't found anything yet!"

A few feet away, Rodderich was leaning against his own shovel. His _small _hole did not even brush a foot deep. "I agree with that statement," he drawled, nonchalantly looking at his nails. "If I'm correct then this isn't even the proper way to mine. We should be at the river-"

Their governor had enough. Stubbornly, he pushed Gilbert back and shot his deadly gaze all around the miners. "You slave away for your king and your country," he growled, loud enough for even their Italian observers could hear. "You do this for every man in Britain. And I will tell you how you will do it, understand?"

He stalked away before anyone could comment. His black boots trampled the ground leading to the edge of the river. Still grumbling, he gazed down the length of the bay. It was huge in width and length. They were a little over a mile inland, allowing him a clear view of the ocean. Moments like these, the man started to miss his son. . .

"Like governor, sir?" Kirkland sighed as Tao took a spot next to him. The Asian, shorter than him by a few inches, stood permanently straight as he buried his hands somewhere in his burgundy-colored duangua. "Can I, like, point something out to you?"

Tiredly, Kirkland ran his hands over his face. "Go ahead."

"There's, like, a bunch of dark-skinned people hiding in the forest."

His green eyes shot down at Tao. "Dark-skinned people?" he repeated, feeling a sense of dread wash over him. "You mean the savages?"

Tao shook his head. "Totally not. Like Italians."

"_The Italian colony." _In the corner of his eye, the blond saw a slight movement in the forest. He thought he felt someone watching them. He had expected as much. He was not just about to let them ruin his chances at gold.

Casually, he took off his red coat, revealing a musket to be slung over his shoulder. Kirkland took it in hands and rubbed his shirt sleeve over the barrel, as if cleaning it. Five. . . four . . . three . . . two . . .

He twisted around and shot blindly into the woods. All of the English men jumped, peeking their heads out of the holes, searching for answers. "What the hell was that?" Gilbert yelled, looking scared to death. "Are you fucking insane? I-"

"Gupta!" Every pale skin froze. That name was foreign to them- there was nobody among them named Gupta. In fact, the voice was coming from the forest.

"Men, arm yourselves!" Kirkland ordered, handing his weapon to Tao for reloading. "This is an ambush!" Every pale skin came to life. They hurried among themselves, jumping out of their pits to the stack of muskets nearby.

Already loaded, they pulled back their triggers and started firing. Tao handed his master a new weapon. The blond changed his position and started aiming for whatever leaf moved. Those Italians. . . somehow they mastered the art of staying camouflaged in the dark green milieu.

He fired again and cursed. "Where the hell is Beilschmidt when I need him?"

Behind the tree line, Sadiq threw his outdated gun to the ground and scrambled to his wounded friend. Who knew that weaponry could improve so much in twenty years? Not that he knew any better form of firepower. All his life he'd known only that specific generation of muskets.

He knelt over his friend, brushing his hand over his pale cheek. "Gupta, are you alright?" He asked, feeling a surge of panic. The Egyptian had been his friend since birth. To see him such a state. . .

Sadiq saw his teeth grind together in pain. "I'm fine," he muttered, reaching his hand to his knee. The fiery pain jolted his leg, invading every nerve in his system. Sticky, warm blood flowed between his fingers and onto the ground. The pain seemed to be everywhere.

Both of them were silent for a second. The wound was going to get infected if the bullet wasn't removed soon. But running away would make all the Italians seem weak and spineless. His image compared to Gupta's life . . .

Finally, the Turk lifted his friend into his arms, calling out loudly, "Retreat!"

He watched his dark men scatter, making sure all of them got away. "_Feli and Lovi better be alright,_" He thought turning to escape himself. "_If that Spanish jackass let them-" _ Another boom rang out in the air and small pain inflicted his right cheek.

Wincing, he clapped a hand over it and felt a little blood. Someone shot at him and missed. Barely. Without another thought, Sadiq sped away, zig-zagging in an untraceable path.

The only pause he took was to see who shot at him.

It was a woman, standing tall as that blond leader berated her in a foreign language. "Worthless woman!" the man in red was saying (not that the Turk could understand him). "You could've killed their leader. This is why I told you to stay away. . ." The Turk didn't have to know English to understand what was going on.

The pale face hated the female with a passion, anyone could see that. His voice was enough to scare anyone. Yet, there was a defiant and obedient glint in her eyes. It was as if she dared not to show weakness and fear.

If she wasn't the enemy, Sadiq might had found the heart to have admired her.

* * *

Feli was- quite simply -fascinated with the German. The Italian boy sat crossed legged across from Heinrich, readily listening to whatever he told Antonio. Said Spaniard was leaning against a tree that Lovino had angrily climbed. Even now, he was there, cursing the idiocy of his companions. He watched as Heinrich picked at the grass under him, saying, "So Governor Kirkland sent me away to search for your village."

Antonio nodded, absorbing everything in small mouthfuls. "So you're here to stay," he repeated, the wheels in his head turning. Suddenly, he kicked off the tree and picked his discarded ax off the ground.

"Where are you going?" Feli asked, tilting his head cutely. He didn't notice the blonde staring at him with wide eyes.

Antonio balanced the weapon over his shoulder and started for the path. "To your father," he replied. "He has to know what's going on here." He paused and looked at Heinrich. "I'll leave your role out, okay mi amigo?"

"Ja. That'll be great," he said. He glanced at Feli before quickly adding, "Watch out for any of my men."

The Spaniard was already lost among the trees when he called back, "¡Sí! Lo haré! Promesa!"

Lovino rolled his eyes, cursing his fiance's name. "Stupid bastard," he said, turning on his tree limb. He lay on his stomach, looking down at his brother and the stranger.

Heinrich looked back up at him. The younger sibling was great, but the older one just plain disturbed him. Carefully, he repeated, "Stupid? Why is Herr Fernandez Carriedo stupid?"

"Because he believes your crap story." The other glared down at him, spitting, "Only an idiot would fucking believe that."

Again, Feli tilted his head. "I believe you," he said softly. Heinrich felt red coming on his cheeks. Since when could one person make him react so easily? Multiple times, Gilbert had tried doing cruel practical jokes in order to get a reaction from him. But his stone facade never broke. And then this adorable girl came along. . .

The blonde ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "What I say is the truth," he said, fatigue lingering in his voice.

"Then why would you tell it to us?" Lovino snapped. Nonchalantly, he jumped from his branch and landed with a thud. "I'm not a goddamn idiot," he growled, jabbing a sharp finger into the other's chest. "I know a fucking trap when I see it."

Heinrich grimaced and resisted the urge to push his finger away. "I'm just trying to do the right thing."

"Bullshit!"

That did it. Roughly, Heinrich grabbed Lovino's finger and glared at him. The sound of Feli whimpering made him want stop and apologize, but he couldn't. He was the older boy, he had to teach this kid some respect. "Listen here. I-"

He was cut off by distant booms. Like gunshots. All three of them pause, listening to a fight break out. "Muskets," he muttered, loosening his grip. A look of horror painted his face as he turned even paler. "Bruder . . ." Heinrich jumped away from Lovino and started to gather his stuff.

Feli gazed at him curiously. As he bent down to gather his gun, the Italian crawled up to him, placing his face in front of the other's. "Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Ja. I think that-" The German looked at him and noticed the closer proximity of their faces. Another define blush littered his cheeks. "-That, um." His crush's older brother rolled his eyes and tapped his foot impatiently. "I think mien bruder's in trouble," he said, coughing his abashment away. "I have to go-"

The little boy only grew more confused. "What's a 'mein bruder'?" he asked, cocking his head to the side. Why must he look so cute when he does that?

"It's German. It means 'my brother.'" He sighed and took one last look at the siblings. "I have to get going. Knowing him, he's probably doing something stupid. Auf Wiedersehen."

Lovino groaned something about relief. His younger brother felt just the opposite. He picked himself off the ground, brushing the dirt off of his skirt. As he asked, "What does Auf Wie-der-zen mean?" Heinrich paused, a foot already in the brush. That cute little girl just didn't give up, didn't she?

"It's how we say goodbye in German," he explained, glancing at him. This time, he purposely lingered. What would she do next?

Feli smiled and flounced up to him. "This is how we say goodbye in Italian-" He stood on the tip of his toes and gently kissed both of the man's cheeks. "-Salve!"

Slowly, he backed away. As Lovino started cursing and scolding his brother for kissing a random stranger, Heinrich placed a disbelieving hand on his cheek. Feli's lips had been so warm and soft. Everything about the child- from head to toe -was like melted chocolate: liquid bliss.

"_I want to see her again," _he realized, barely believing his own words. "_I have to see her again." _As the Italians quarreled among each other (if you call Feli being berated by Lovino an argument), the German reached behind his neck and unclasped his iron cross. Boldly, he took a step between the brothers. "Take this." He gently forcing his family heirloom into the other's hand. "I want to see you again," he recited. "Is there a way I can find you?"

"Fuck no!" Lovino pushed him away and then pointed a finger at his brother. "Do not tell him anything!" he yelled, his face turning a bright red. "You are not to trust him!"

Feli stuck his lower lip out and started leaking tears. "But I was only going to tell him to meet me on the cliff," he whimpered. The other smacked his forehead in frustration.

Heinrich jumped to his feet. "The cliff?" he repeated, growing excited. He saw one when the ship was sailing down the river. "Ja, I'll meet you there in one week at noon!" he said, already turning into the woods. "Bis bald!"

The two Italians stared at the place the German used to be. "I won't fucking talk about this shit if you don't," Lovino said. "Agree?"

Feli, not knowing what else to do, nodded. "Si!"

* * *

Antonio walked briskly, but quietly down the river. The sooner he returned to the village, the better. He highly doubted that the gunshots he heard earlier was anything else but a fight. "_Leave it to Sadiq to start a war," _he thought grimly. The Spaniard was never one to criticize other people, but when he did he always kept it to himself. He didn't want other people to be sad or distressed.

He turned his gaze to the water's surface. His reflection smiled back at him. But it wasn't smooth. The river was always calm, unless it was raining . . . or someone was disrupting it. The invaders were further downstream and the faint ripples distorting his reflection was from up river.

"_It could be one of the English," _he thought, walking into the tree line. He hid himself behind the large conifers, concealed in the shadows. If it was an Englishman, then they were dangerously close to the village. Antonio would have to attack him.

Noiselessly, he crept along the trees, searching the water for the intruder. After a few minutes of quicken heart beats, he saw him. A tall, pale man stood naked in the middle of the river. His hairy back was to him and he could see his pampered fingers scratching at his blond hair. Antonio smirked. "_He's taking a bath!"_

"Sacre bleu!" the man swore, dipping his head into the water. "I'll never get this dirt out!" The tanned man recognized that voice.

Many years ago, when he was just about to be shipped off to the New World, Antonio had decided to spend one last night in Spain drinking to his heart's content. At one particular bar, he became friends with two foreigners. The first was Gilbert Beilschmidt, a German on business with his father. The second was Francis Bonnefoy, a French envoy on vacation.

The three of them shared stories and drank all night. Or at least, Antonio tried to. After the first ten beers, Gilbert passed out and could only vaguely remember the night before. Francis had found a lovely lady and ran off with her after twenty. Yes, Antonio only spent a precious hour with them, but it was enough to make him reconsider attacking the blond.

The Spaniard was not going to kill him.

He would just make sure he was thoroughly lost.

Because that was the merciful thing to do.

Curbed, he planted his weapon into the ground and climbed up the nearest tree. He did his best not to giggle as Francis wadded his way out, muttering curses in French. "Stupid Arthur," he swore, stretching out his back. Antonio kindly averted his eyes when the blonde's . . . parts were in clear view. The only ones he wanted to see were Lovino's. "Il fera sa propre mort un jour."

Francis bent over to grab his clothes. In his moment of distraction, Antonio swung down and kicked his butt. By the time the pale man's face was in the mud, he was already hiding in the leaves.

"Zut!" Francis pried himself off the ground, wiping the mud from his blue eyes. "What was that?"

His attacker silently sighed. He was dirty again, so? He had to do something a bit more drastic. He had to make his presence known. He scratched his nails at the trunk and peeled off a dense strip of bark. The man threw it to the other shore, making a hustle in the bushes.

The French envoy shot his head to the noise, swearing more in his native tongue. Antonio jumped out of the tree and stood right in the open. When Francis turned around, he saw him standing proudly with a crookedly smile on his face. For a moment, he just stared at the Spaniard, slowly processing his presence.

His studded jaw fell open. "Y-you're. . ."

The tanned man gave a low, sweeping bow. "Si," he said, trying to sound grand and magnificent. "I am Antonio Fernandez Carr-"

In a later account of the meeting, Antonio would shakingly smile and say that he was assaulted sexually.

He wasn't lying.

Francis leaped onto the bent man, accidentally giving him a face full of his 'furry' parts. His victim shrieked and tried to pull him off, but the pervert's hands were safetly clammed around his buttox. "Antoine!" He happily sang. "You're here!"

"Get off of me!" The other screamed, shoving him away. The pale man fell on top of his pile of discarded clothes.

He pouted and gave Antonio puppy eyes. "But Antoine," he sniffled, trying to look desperate. "I thought we were friends."

Now he was playing that card. "_He really hasn't changed a bit,_" He thought, vaguely considering finding his ax and defending himself. He forcefully smiled and took a few steps back. "Of course we're friends." He had to get out of there.

Francis threw his head back and released a waterfall of over dramatic tears. "Then let me touch your ass!" He cried. The blonde took his shirt in hand and started to tug in the cloth like a handkerchief. "You have the greatest ass I've ever seen!"

Antonio ran for his virginity. He dashed into the trees, grabbed his ax, and ran away. He didn't care where he was going, he just needed to escape that creep. Unfortunately for him, Francis was pulling his clothes back on, readying himself for a chase.

"Arretz!" He called, loud enough for his victim to hear. "Come back, Antoine! How do I get back to my camp?" When he didn't reply, he strapped his belt on and started a mad dash after him.

Seriously, how hard was it to get some directions around here? Especially from a man with a great ass.

* * *

Heracles studied the wound carefully. Gupta laid on an animal pelt, groaning at the immense pain from his injured shin. Behind him was Romulus, concerningly observing his treatment methods. In front of him, not bothering to hide that despicable glare, was Sadiq. He looked sick from worry, constantly observing the ground as he muttered Turkish curses.

How was the Greek suppose to tell any of them that there was nothing he could really do? Besides removing the bullet, all they could do was hope and pray. Hope and pray. Slowly, Heracles looked up and evenly met Sadiq's eyes. "I'm . . . sorry," he said, shamelessly yawning. "I did . . . all I could."

This did not fly well. "Try harder, jackass!" He snapped, clenching his fist and furrowing his eyebrows. "There had to be something else you can fucking try!"

Romulus sighed and raised a hand. "Basta!" He ordered. The two men paused and looked at him. "We cannot waste our energy fighting amongst ourselves." He paused, considering the village's options. "We will fight this enemy, but we cannot do it alone." He looked at Sadiq with hard, nonchalant eyes."Sadiq, send messengers to every village in the colonies We will call on our brothers to help us fight."

The Turk nodded. "Yes sir." Normally, he would had stayed longer to add one more sly comment, but this was his future father-in-law. He wanted to make a good, lasting impression.

The man raced out, gathering runners to send written messages to the other colonies. They needed as many warriors as they could get. No one was going to harm his friend and expect to get away with it.

Sadiq swore, once their army was built, he would have his revenge on those pale man.

* * *

**MW: **I got to go to the gym now, but I hope that you all enjoyed this and please remember to review. This story needs all the love it can get.

**Translations and Funfacts**

"Chi stai sta?" What is your name? Italian.

"Il mio nome è Heinrich Beilschmidt." My name is Heinrich Beilschmidt. Italian.

"¡Sí! Lo haré! Promesa!" Yes! I promise! Spanish.

There's probably more, I just can't find them.

**Next Chapter: **Tensions continue to rise as Heinrich learns the truth.

*****Pretty please review!******


	4. Chapter 4

**MW: **Here I am, updating. Even though no one reviews. Eh, oh well. I'm still going to do it.

**Chapter Summary: **Heinrich realizes a startling fact and must deal with the consequences.

**Warnings: **Language and Homophobia.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing. Yay!

* * *

**~Chapter 4~**

* * *

"Vee~! You came~!" Heinrich could not help but to smile. What a cute sound.

Feli jumped from his spot at the cliff's edge and ran to meet the German at the tree line. Ecstatically, the little boy threw his arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. "Fratello said that you wouldn't!" He cried, nuzzling his head into the other's neck. Heinrich could not help but to blush deeply. "But I knew you would~!"

The pale man looked down and laughed nervously. He had almost not been able to. Kirkland had wanted him to stay behind and help guard the camp in case another 'ambush' happened. It wasn't until Gilbert and Rodderich started a fist fight over who-knows-what that the German was able to escape. His boss was definitely going to give him hell later, but at the moment he really didn't care.

"I see no reason why I shouldn't," he muttered, peeling the child off on him. Held at an arm's length away, Feli cutely tilted his head in confusion. The blonde felt his cheeks heat up again. "I-I mean, after all, I d-did give you my necklace."

"Si! You did!" He reached down the front of his shirt and pulled up the heirloom. "See! I have it right here!" That earned him another blush.

Heinrich faked a cough and lowered himself onto the ground. "Well, take care of it," he muttered, looking away shyly. "It was a gift from my Vatti." Feli gave him another confused look. "My papa."

The child laid himself on the ground next to him, smiling broadly. "You're papa?" He repeated, smoothing his green dress. "What is he like?"

Heinrich and his Vatti were- to put it simply -not on the best terms. For starters, he favorited the child, promising him the company at his passing. This- of course -created some rift between Gilbert and his little brother. This rift led to an argument that led to Gilbert leaving their Prussian home and traveling across Europe.

Naturally, the boy blamed his vatti for this and refused to accept the company from him until Gilbert came back. He then left his house and moved to Britain where he discovered his older brother's imprisonment in Russia. And you know the story from there.

Heinrich sighed, looking up at the sky. It was a vibrant blue- a shade Feli related to the pale man's eyes. "My Vatti's a very serious man," he said, concentrating on the passing clouds. "He was the one who gave me that necklace. He always said that I'll be the salvation of the Beilschmidt family. I always hated him for that pressure. But in a way, he did what he thought was best for me." A hesitant pause. "I miss him, a lot."

The brunette (like always) missed the mood completely. "He gave this to you?" He asked happily, pointing to the iron cross. The other nodded. "Wow, it must be really important to you then."

"No it's fine." Heinrich sat up and reached for his satchel. Carefully, he pulled out his brown compass. "He also gave me this," he explained, handing it to him. "I would never be able to find my way around if I didn't have that."

Feli turned the device slowly in his little hands. It was smooth and sturdy with a strange arrow that only pointed in one direction. He had seen a compass once before. It had been among Helen's possessions. When the boy had first seen it, he had wanted more than anything to play with it, but Romulus had told him no and forbidden him from ever touching it again.

"It's really pretty," he breathed, running a finger over the glass face. "My papa never lets me touch my mama's."

Heinrich took the compass back, asking, "Your mama? What is she like?" When he saw the downcast look in Feli's eyes, he immediately regretted his words. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," he quickly added.

The boy didn't hear him. "Mama was really sick and died," he explained, hugging his knees. "Papa says that she was really smart." His demeanor suddenly brightened. "But she always played with Lovi and I, so I'm happy. What about your mama?"

This time, Heinrich looked a little sad. He never liked talking about his mother, but if the cute girl in front of him could find the courage, so could he. "My mutti died giving birth to me," he said softly. Lax, he laid down again into the soft green grass, looking up wistfully at the sky. "But she's up in heaven right now and that's enough to make me happy."

Feli mirrored him, chirping, "Papa says that Mama's still with us. She's here whenever the wind blows." On cue, the breeze kicked up, carrying an array of dead leaves with it.

"You're Papa seems like an admirable man," the German said. "You're lucky to have him."

For a long moment, they were both silent. Feli pressed his thin lips together, carefully deciding his words. "He wants me to marry someone."

A long pause as the words were absorbed. Like a snapped rope, Heinrich shot upwards. "He what?" His voice was soft and panicky; a soft blush danced on his cheeks. "Are you engaged?"

Feli shrugged, still laying down and absently gazing at the sky. "Vee, I'm not sure. Papa says it's okay to marry a guy-"

"Why wouldn't it be okay for you to marry a guy?" The blond looked down at him, knitting his brows together. "You're a girl, and the bible says-"

He was cut off by a small chuckle. This chuckle grew to a giggle that turned into a full out laugh. Feli clutched his sides, crying tears of laughter as he continued to roar. All Heinrich could manage was an uneasy look. _"What did I say . . ."_

At last, the Italian stopped long enough to explain: "I'm not a girl, silly!"

Oh.

She's a guy . . . Feli's a boy . . . what?

Heinrich abruptly stood, gathering his stuff quickly. "I have to go," he said, face now a deep scarlet. He paused and looked at the boy. "I . . . never mind."

This only served to make Feli even more confused. "Where are you going?" he asked, picking at the ends of his dress.

He didn't even bother to make eye contact. "I need to go back to the camp."

"Can I come-"

"Nein!" He flinched at the other's volume. He had that tone Lovino had whenever he was upset. Heinrich checked his belongs one last time before running off into the woods. When he had disappeared into the thick brush, Feli heard him call out a faint, "Auf Wiedersehen!"

The Italian was left, sitting on the cliff, wondering what had caused the sudden outburst.

The German was running back to his base, guided by the compass, demanding to know why he had liked another man.

* * *

"What am I going to do with you?" Gilbert and Rodderich exchanged wary glances as Kirkland loomed over them. The three men were in the superior's tent, decked in dried mud and sweat. This did not exclude Kirkland. The Brit's hair was stuck to his forehead and his famous red coat was torn in a few spots. Testily, he stood over the sitting men, glaring incessantly. Angrily, he smacked both of them behind their heads, saying, "I leave you alone for five minutes and what do you do? You both start fighting!"

Gilbert cockily grinned, flashing a smile with a missing tooth. "It's not my awesome fault," he said, looking up with his crimson eyes. "Roddy here insulted my honor-"

"You insulted Miss Héderváry's!" The musician snapped readily.

Kirkland pressed his lips together and rolled his eyes. "It's just a _woman," _He sneered, hitting the back of their heads again. "She's nothing to worry about. Get out of here and send Héderváry in as well."

The German couldn't help it: "Can't you just go do it?"

The blond smacked him again. "Now." There was that final tone in his voice. Both of the German speakers quickly and efficiently scrambled out. He watched them go, only relaxing when they had left. "Stupid gits," he muttered, lowering himself into his seat. Lines of stress darkened his wrinkles.

It'd been a week, he should be swimming in gold by now. No, he knew better than to have hollow hopes like that. The man had at least expected a small trace of the precious metal. But no. All they had was a large zero. "_And the Spaniards were bathing in it,"_ he thought grimly, hunching into himself. What in the world was he doing wrong?

In a calm manner, Tao strutted in. There was an cool demeanor on his indifferent face. "What's, like, wrong?" he asked, nonchalantly gazing over his master. "You like seem stressed."

Kirkland chuckled under his breath. "Nothing wrong," he drawled, stretching his arms and back. "We're just dirt poor, I'm the laughing stock of the court, and we're missing the ambassador for the French Court." No one- not a single person -has seen a single trace of Francis all week. The Brit was worried for his well being, but after three separate search parties, everyone had just about given up.

The Asian nodded, casually peeling his shoes off. "I, like, know what you mean," he replied, rubbing his sore feet. "Earlier, I was, like, doing my chores as told when Mathais came up to me. He had rubbed these red berries all over himself and tried to convince me that the Italians had-"

Suddenly, the blond jumped from his chair. "That's it Tao!" He exclaimed, brightening up tenfold. He shot a knowing gaze to his subordinate, asking, "Why do you think those insolent heathens attacked us?

Tao looked up, trying to remember the most he can. "Let's see. . . Because we, like, invaded their land and, like, cut down their trees and, like, dug up their earth?" You had to love the Asian for his moments of clarity.

Unfortunately, Kirkland did not see it that way. "No; It's the gold! They have it and they don't want us to take it from them." He smiled, twisting one of the numerous rings on his fingers. "Of course, there most likely wasn't a lot of it in the first place, but that doesn't matter. We'll just have to take it by force then, won't we?" His other rolled his eyes, but said nothing.

Seconds later, there was a cough at the tent opening. Elizaveta stood in front, pretending not to have heard anything. She really hadn't- Heinrich had just returned, his moodiness stealing her attention. Not that Kirkland cared, she looked guilty.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" she asked, standing proud and tall. Show no weakness, show no fear.

Kirkland glared at her, remembering the lecture he was going to give her. Quickly, he snapped, "I want you to just stand there and listen to me, Héderváry." The next part, the majority of the pale settlers considered abuse: "You are incompetent. I want you to know that because you fail at being a fighter, you will not survive until winter. I hope that when it happens, you will realize that Héderváry.

The Hungarian smiled sweetly, no batting an eyelid. "Is that all sir?" She asked, unphased by his words. Show no weakness, show no fear. "I would like to return to help build the fort."

A thick eyebrow twitched in irritation. "Yes," he spat, lacing his words with acid. "That is all." One of these days, he'd nick that girl.

Soon.

Outside, Elizaveta blinked away tears, thinking angry thoughts. _"Stupid Kirkland," _she thought, kicking a stone. Felikstown was coming along nicely. Most of the surrounding wood walls were built, but everyone was still living in a tent. To top it off, their food supply was quickly depleting. If any of the settlers wanted to survive the winter, then they had to find a source of food and soon. _"Judging me before even giving me a chance! I swear, one day I'll-"_

"Aw Bruder! What's wrong?" The Hungarian paused, recognizing Gilbert's harsh voice. Turning, she saw him poking his younger brother's face, smirking in joy. Heinrich, to his credit, was doing his best to ignore him as he stalked his way to his tent. "You look so unawesome right now," he continued, trailing behind him. "Did something happen?"

The blond pushed him away. "Nothing happened," Heinrich snapped, voice reaching a harsh level.

The sudden lash caused Gilbert to pause in his steps. Elizaveta watched as the pale man's face softened and his voice reached a nicer level. "Entschuldigen Sie bitte," he apologized, trailing a little slower. "Did something happen?"

The other looked ready to say something, but quickly shook his head. "Nein, I'm fine," He said. "Nothing's wrong." Before the brother could do anything more, the German entered his tent, closing the entrance flap behind him.

Gilbert paused in front of it, hesitant but strong. "Just . . . talk to me when you're ready," he said. When Heinrich didn't reply, he uneasily inched away, red eyes still looking worried.

Those same red eyes caught Elizaveta watching. The brunette expected him to do many things. Many immature things. What she didn't expect, though, was for the albino to giving her a quizzing look. "What?" he asked, sticking his hands into his pockets. "Is there an unawesome problem?"

That took her aback. "No . . ."

"Then why are you staring?" She was staring because throughout the entire boat trip to this New World, not once had she seen him act so brotherly. The whole time he'd always been a pain in Heinrich's side, but now . . .

Elizaveta scowled, trying to hide her interest. "I'm not staring at you," she hissed, searching the scenery behind him. "I was looking at . . ." Her eyes rested on Rodderich, playing his harmonica for Tino and Ari. "Rodderich."

For some reason- one she didn't know -this only served to make the Prussian's eyes look sadder. "Really?" he said. For a moment, all he did was bite his lips together. Suddenly, he waved it off, saying, "Like the awesome me cares." Elizaveta grinded her teeth together as he pushed by her. "You're not awesome enough to stare at me anyways."

Long after he was gone, the brunette was grimly planning some form of torture for him.

* * *

"Signor Jones, I need your help." Antonio sat at the willow's base, patiently waiting for the usual face to appear. The Spaniard looked like a pleading little kid, gazing up at the bark as it formed a nose, mouth, and eyes. His fiance was sulking to the side, grumbling about his brother and that stupid pale kid.

After what seemed like forever, Signor Jones's face appeared crisp and clear. "Hey Antonio!" he greeted, green vines swaying excitedly with the light breeze. "What brings ya here?"

The Italian huffed as the man glanced warily behind. There was a panicked looked in his green eyes as he scanned the trees surrounding the glen. Satisfied, he leaned in, saying in a mere whisper, "I'm being stalked."

The tree gave him an odd look. "Being . . . stalked?" it repeated, crinkling its bark nose.

He nodded. "Si!"

In all of the tree's centuries of being a garden of wisdom and love, it had never been faced with a problem like this. Usually, people would consult other people for this kind of situation. Not a tree. Still, it was part of his duties to ask, "By whom?"

Antonio gave a side glance to Lovino. Again, the younger only huffed and spat at the ground. "An old . . . friend of mine," he explained, carefully choosing his words. "Francis Bonnefoy. Every time I leave the village, he's there, trying to grope my butt! It's freaking me out!"

The tree sighed. "And what do you want me to do about it?"

The Spaniard jumped to his feet, waving his arms about. "Strike him with your tree powers!"

Signor Jones was having one of those moments when he really wished he had a hand to smack his forehead with. "Look, I may be the hero, but I can't do that to him."

"And why not?"

"Because there's nothing evil in wanting to touch your ass." The tree grinned, adding, "Heck, if I had hands, I would abuse that thing till it was baby red."

Antonio's eyes grew wide and his mouth fell to the ground in shock. He could find no words to describe how disturbed he was. Lovino, however, found plenty. "What the hell, you fucking pervert!" He yelled, marching over to the tree's face. Angrily, he pushed the man aside and glared angrily at the plant. "Say that shit again and I swear, I'll fucking cut you down!"

Jones only laughed. "Dude, you're so sweet right now!"

"Shut your fucking pie hole!"

He winced. "Alright, fine!" The tree looked down at the side, feeling a little more irritated by the second. "Geeze . . . it was just a joke. . ." he muttered, too soft for the brown-haired boy to hear. Sighing, it looked him straight in the eye, asking, "So what's bugging you today, Lovi-?"

The Italian wasted no time in snapped, "Don't fucking call me that!"

"Just answer my question!" The willow barked, losing even more of his patience. He distinctly remembered that kid being a lot easier to deal with when Helen was still alive. . .

Lovino crossed his arms over his chest, pulling at the ends of his white sleeves. Even the tree had to admit that he looked good in his green vest. "There's this pale asshole that insists on harassing Feli," he said.

How interesting. "Harassing? How?"

"He fucking said that he wanted to meet him at the cliff and shit." The Italian, forgetting who he was talking to, sat crossed legged on the ground. "He even gave this stupid necklace crap to him," he rambled. "And now Feli won't go anywhere without wearing it with him every fucking day. Hell, I have to remind him to keep the shit hidden under his clothes every Goddamn minute! It's fucking annoying what that bastard's done."

Signore Jones nodded. Now _this _was why he was here: to give personal advice like this. "I say 'let it take its course'," it suggested, smiling broadly.

Lovino rolled his eyes, grabbed Antonio's arm, and lifted him up. Dumb and still in shock, the Spaniard obliged. "Like I give a crap," he replied coolly. "Let's get out of-"

"Wait!" The two men paused in their tracks. Signor Jones flexed his vines, feeling the cool wind pass between his leaves. "Is Feli still having his dream?" he asked. "The one with the 'spinning arrow.'"

As the brother scoffed, Antonio shrugged. "If he is, he hasn't mentioned it," he said. "But I think-"

"Antonio~" Said man froze in place. That was Francis, meandering the woods a little ways off, searching for _him. _

"Run!" He grabbed Lovino's arm and dashed back into the woods, leaving Signor Jones alone in his glean.

"Stupid," it muttered, shaking his annoyed leaves. Helen never abused him like those two did.

* * *

Rain pounded on the working men like bullets on a battlefield. Mud covered the ground, seeping and oozing through their clothes and into their boots. Englishmen lifted planks of wood higher and higher into the air, completing the fort of Felikstown. "C'mon now men!" A tall Dane, Mathias called out. "It's nothing more than a picket fence."

Another man, a quiet one by the name of Lukas, groaned as he pushed it upward. "Well if you don't shut-up, it's going up your ass," he grumbled, brushing his wet bangs from his face.

From a distance, Rodderich and Elizaveta watched. They were exempt from the group for their own reasons: the Hungarian because she was suppose to cook what little food they had; the Austrian because he was too weak to help.

They huddled like penguins, wrapping themselves in the same oil blanket. Both of them were shivering, praying that they didn't catch a deathly cold. "I'm worried about him," Elizaveta muttered, pulling her end closer around herself.

The man pushed his slipping glasses higher up his nose. "Who?"

"Heinrich." She pointed a small finger at the boy. Like everyone else, he was grunting and pushing the planks higher and higher. "There's something bugging him."

The man shivered, moving closer to the woman. He felt her arm press against his and blush. "W-well whatever it is, it's bugging Gilbert too," he muttered, down casting his violet eyes. "He hasn't annoyed any of us in days."

Elizaveta couldn't help but to smirk softly. It was adorable the way Mr. Edelstein lost his tongue whenever they were close. Casually, she asked, "Why don't we go ask them?"

"And risk getting beaten up by 'the awesome one'? No thank you." She rolled her eyes. Then again, it was annoying the way he always ran from a fight. And not just any fights, but only the ones with Gilbert. If it was anybody else- like Vladimir -he would stand his ground and raise his fist.

"Then I'll do it myself," she huffed, stripping away her cover. The rain assaulted her, further chilling her blood. Purposefully, she trekked through the mud to the men. At last, their planks were standing erect and proud. The base was secured and the men could rest.

Mathias and Vladimir leaned against the wall and started whistling at her (this was part of some inside joke they had with her and Lukas. Whenever either of them walked by the men, they would start wolf calling them). Elizaveta ignored them and eventually found Heinrich shoveling a pile of loose mud to the base of the fort.

"Hello Heinrich," she greeted, smiling with care. His blue eyes didn't even bother looking at her. "Do you need any help?" The girl asked. The German boy shook his head, unrelenting. "Do you want to rest?" Another denial. "Is there even a reason for you doing that?"

"It's so that the men don't slip and hurt themselves," he explained, shoveling another load of mud. "We don't want anyone to be injured if the Italians attack again."

"You should just leave him alone, Elizaveta." Said girl scowled as Gilbert wrapped a slick arm around her shoulders. There was a fake, cocky grin on his face. "He's just mad that he missed all the action," he excused, attempting to sound convincing.

He fooled no one.

True, the Hungarian was amazed that the Prussian was trying so hard to protect his younger brother. She never knew that he could be so . . . caring. But his sheltering was not going to help Heinrich chirp up. It was as plain as day that he was facing issues only a woman could advise.

Gently, she took the blonde's hand, peeled away his tool, and led him away. "Heinrich, let's go talk in my tent," she urged, leading him away. From the corner of her green eyes, she saw Gilbert trailing them. "_Alone, _please." The older brother paused, curled his lip, and stormed away.

For a moment, she felt bad. _"He'll get over it," _she told herself, pushing Heinrich inside. Unbelievably, it was much drier under the canvas roof of her sleeping area. It was much smaller than most of the men's and only contained her necessities: her bag of clothes, a sleeping cot, a bible, and a candle for reading.

As Heinrich took off his soaked black coat, the girl sat in her cot and lit the candle. A small, yet warming glow filled the area around them. "There's something bugging you Heinrich," she said, patting the spot next to her. As cued, the boy sat next to her, refusing to meet her eyes. "Is it something you want to talk about?"

Stubbornly, he shook his head. "It's nothing that you can fix," he said.

Another long minute was spent in sheer silence. "Do you remember the first day we met?" Elizaveta asked, eyes growing distant in reminiscence. "You and Gilbert had just returned to Russia. That idiot thought it would be a good idea to harass one of my sisters."

Finally, the other gave a reaction. A small smirk danced on his face at the memory, saying, "Ja, I do. You came with a frying pan and hit him on the back of the head. You were really mad, yet when I came, all you could do was apologizing to me."

She laughed fondly, adding, "I was afraid that you would press charges against me, but you didn't. Instead you told me he deserved it and not to worry. We became friends after that."

Heinrich, seeming much happier than before, laughed. "Gilbert always says that he met the love of his life that day," he told her. "He always said that he was going to marry you."

She paused, staring at the boy. She was well aware that the man liked to joke about it, but that only started when they were on the ship. She never knew that he had been talking about it beforehand.

Something in the story made Heinrich pause, gaining a strange look upon his face. In a soft voice, he asked, "Elizaveta, can I ask you something?" A nod. "I like this person," he said. The brunette was on the edge of her seat. He was in love- she knew it. "But there is this one . . . _quality _about them that I really can't stand. I'm afraid that I might not love them anymore because of it."

The girl clicked her tongue. So he was love sick. "_That's so cute," _she mentally cooed, wrapping him in a large embrace. She didn't care who it was, she just couldn't stand how adorable Heinrich would look with a cute little lover. "If you love them, then it shouldn't matter," the Hungarian explained. "Love is love no matter what."

Slowly, the other nodded, absorbing her advice. At last, a small smile danced upon his lips. "Danke, Elizaveta." He stood, pulling his coat back on. "I think I have to tell him that."

He was gone before she could exclaim, "Him?"

* * *

"Fucking corn," Lovino growled, ripping away another one from its green stalk. They were at the edge of the village, deep inside their garden of corn. It had grown like a forest, thick with one winding path leading in and out. Feli and Lovino were on said path, gathering the yellow plant grudgingly. "I hate corn," the elder one growled again, throwing it into his basket. He hated having to do this, but it had poured a few days earlier and any excuse to be outside was a good one. He wiped his hands on his trousers and looked down at his little brother.

Feli was kneeling, playing more with the ends of his dress then the stalks. Even now, his basket only had a single ear inside. Again, the older boy huffed. That kid had been sulking through the village for days and he still didn't know why. Hell, he had even gone through the length of telling Feli about his and Antonio's adventures in escaping Francis (it involved a moose), but that had done little good.

Romulus traveled briskly down the path, looking a little stressed, but as collective as always. Happily, he called out: "Feli! Lovi!"

"Don't fucking call me that, old man!" You-Know-Who snapped.

The father glared at his son, silently demanding his obedience. "You both should be in the village," he scolded, looking past his sons and into the stalks of corn. "It's dangerous to be out alone."

Feli looked up at his father, giving a weak smile. "We'll be fine," he said, attempting happiness.

Lovino- for once -supported his cause, adding, "We're gathering food for when those Goddamn soldiers arrive." Sadiq had made good on his order and sent word to the other Italian colonies. A few days before, they received word that a hundred of them were on their way.

"Watch you're language," The leader snapped, sounding but not looking displeased. Slowly, he took a long breath, saying, "Just don't leave the village; now is not the time to be running off. We wouldn't want you two to run into those Englishmen-" The siblings exchanged looks. "-But Feli, what are you wearing around your neck?"

Feli's eyes grew wide as a hand shot to his neck. Again, the iron cross Heinrich had given him was above his dress collar. Anyone could see it. The Italian was a smart boy: he knew better than to tell Romulus about his encounter. Especially how the last one ended . . .

"I found it," Lovino declared, standing proud and strong. His chin was raised high in the air as he said, "Feli thought it was cool so I gave it to him."

His father raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "Alright then . . ." He looked back at the village before starting to make his way towards it. "You two shouldn't be out here alone," he said. "I'll send for Sadiq."

If his father had turned around, he would have seen Feli's shoulders slouch. Not Sadiq- anyone but him. Reluctantly, he returned to peeling another ear off the stalk. A small sigh escaped his lips-

"All right, what the hell is it?"Lovino glared down at him, hands on his hips, and his legs straddled. Feli gave him a blank look. "You're fucking hiding something."

He couldn't tell him about Heinrich's abrupt leave. It'd only make him upset. And all he wanted was for him to be happy. "I'm not hiding anything," he said, trying (and failing) to sound convincing.

Lovino sighed. "Damn it Feliciano, you can tell me anything. I promise I won't tell anyone— what the hell are you doing here?"

Feli turned around and saw Heinrich pushing himself through the corn stalks. Once again, he was completely absorbed in his compass, trying to find his way through. At the sound of the brother's voice, he immediately perked up. "Feli! Lovino!" A light smile grew on his face. "I thought that I might find you here."

His blue eyes gazed over the boys before resting on Feli. Contrite feelings gripped his heart, causing him to look away. "I'm sorry Feli," he said, concentrating on his feet. "I need to talk to you."

"Why the hell would you be sorry?" He demanded, shooting him an evil glare. "What the hell did you do?"

Heinrich opened his mouth, ready to make some excuse, when Feli suddenly spoke. "He did nothing, fratello!" He cried, eyes watering with tears. "Please don't be mad!"

Then, to the youngest's distress, Sadiq's low voice called out his name. He was still a distance away- he had to stop Lovino from revealing Heinrich.

But nothing could stop an angry Italian. "Know what? You both are fucking crazy! When the masked bastard gets here, I'm going to tell him that-"

Feli jumped to his feet and slapped his hands over the other's mouth. "Please don't!" He pouted. Heinrich couldn't help but to glance in Sadiq's general direction when Feli's name was called again. "If you tell Sadiq, I'll hate you forever," Feli said. His name was called again. "Please don't tell Papa or Sadiq."

Hurriedly, he took the German's pale arm, saying, "Quickly, let's go to Signor Jones." They entered the thick forest of corn stalks, disappearing just as Sadiq came within view.

He looked stress, but as daunting as usual. He'd spent the past few days by Gupta's side, encouraging his good health. Luckily, the stoic man was going to pull through. It would be painful, but at least he would live. For the first time in days, there was a pleasant smile on his face . . . that turned into a frown when he only saw the older brother. "Lovino, where's Feli?" he asked, eyeing the boy's forgotten basket.

The older brother had a choice to make. He could reveal Heinrich and stop everything before it grew serious. But . . . "I haven't seen the bastard," he snapped, yanking another ear of corn off its stalk. "Why does it fucking matter to you?"

The Turk sighed, a vein popping in irritation. "You're father told me to watch you both," he said. "I'm going to find him. If you see him, can you tell him to stop wandering off? It's dangerous out there. He listens to you."

It was only after he had walked away did Lovino huff, "Like hell he does."

* * *

**MW: **God, this is a slow movie.

**BFTL: **Can you just do Hunchback of Notre Dame already? People on youtube are demanding it.

**MW: **Just shut it.

Please review.

**Funfatcs and Translations**

"Entschuldigen Sie bitte." Excuse me or I am sorry. German.

****Review? Please? Pretty Please?****


	5. Chapter 5

**MW: **You know, I keep on putting these chapters up after I get back from the gym. I see a pattern . . .

**BFTL: (**I like how no one noticed that fact that you forgot the next chapter preview last chapter)

**MW: **Thanks to those who reviewed~!

**Chapter Summary: **Rodderich and Gilbert get hell as they try to find Heinrich.

**Warnings: **Strong Language, Sexual Themes

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Hetalia or Disney. If I did, then Hetalia would be an awesome Disney movie.

* * *

**~Chapter 5~**

* * *

In Gilbert's defense, he hadn't _meant _to fall asleep by Rodderich's side. He really had a logical explanation for it. The night before, around a brightly lit ember fire, both he, the Austrian, and Vladimir had been talking late into the night. Their topic of conversation? The opposite sex, naturally.

"I miss waking up next to one," Gilbert had told them, smirking at the memories. They lay behind his eyes: the images of a bright morning and a bare-backed woman. His fantasies of waking next to Elizaveta. . . Just little mockful ones. He did not actually want to know her on that level. Right? He probed their ember fire with a stick, asking, "What about you, Rodderich? Has an ass like you ever gotten laid?"

The brunette scowled. Adjusting his glasses, he huffed, "Unlike you two, I actually have respect for women."

Vladimir, a tall blond with deadly pale skin, laughed. "It's not as though we don't respect them," he said, flashing a toothy grin. "It's just that we know how to have a good time with them." Gilbert laughed in agreement.

"By abusing their chastity?" He shook his head, muttering German insults. "You're both terrible."

The blond threw a stick into the fire. Suddenly, his grin widened. The flames' light created a dark, ominous shadow across his face. "You know, we do have a woman here," he said darkly. Gilbert and Rodderich's attention immediately shot to him. The Prussian was clenching his fist tightly. Vladimir, unaware of their aura, leaned back, saying, "Yeah, sometimes I just want to sneak into her tent and bite her neck, you know?"

Long story short, Gilbert and Roderich decided to guard the Elizaveta's tent for night. Of course, after their long day of back breaking labor, the two had ended up falling asleep in front of it. Gilbert was just a man who hugged his pillows at night, so he ended up sleep-hugging his rival.

With this setting in mind, when Kirkland rose that morning, he had his heart set on talking to Heinrich. He needed to discuss with him the offensive attack against the Italian colonies he was planning. After all, King Feliks assigned him there to protect them from those tanned devils. When the governor discovered that the blond was not in his tent, he went off on a quest to find him. What he did find were the two men, snuggling in front of that wench's tent.

A vein in his forehead popped with anger. "Get up!" He ordered, kicking dirt onto their faces.

Slowly, both men opened their eyes. In a half dream state, they lazily yawned and exchanged glances. Then they realized that they were holding each other. Both pairs of eyes went wide as they flew apart from each other. "What the hell!" Gilbert screamed, scrambling away. "Why are you sleeping by the awesome me?"

"I could ask the same to you!" Rodderich snapped back, wiping any 'Gilbert germs' off his arms.

Kirkland looked down at them, greatly unamused. "I'm not even going to ask," he muttered, shaking his head. He was actually okay with his men sleeping with each other just as long as it didn't take away from their duties. For heaven's sake, his own older brothers did it with each other. And they tried to do it to him. If that did not make a man immune to such things, nothing will. Pushing onward with his quest, Kirkland stomped his foot, barking, "Attention!"

The two German speakers jumped to their feet and stood with erect backs. Their clothes were wrinkled and covered with dirt from their night on the ground. He irritably sighed. That was not the British way to be dressed. The governor rubbed his temples, saying, "You are men of the English court- you will conduct yourselves in a proper manner, understand?"

"Yes sir!" They automatically chorused. Show no weakness, show no fear.

With that aside, the blond returned to his original quest. "Have either of you seen Heinrich Beilschmidt?" he demand, glancing at the rising sun.

Gilbert's face loosened and his crimson eyes surveyed Felikstown. "You mean he's not in his tent?" he asked, sounding extremely worried. "Are you sure he's not at the shit holes?"

He furrowed his eyebrows. Out of all the terms he could have used, he had to use _that_ one. "I am positive," Kirkland grumbled, running a hand through his hair. A thought occurred to him. Heinrich had been itching to leave the fort for days. There was a distracted air to him ever since that first attack. At first he thought that it was because he had missed the fighting, but what if it was more because of more _personal _matters?

"Find him," the acid eyed man ordered, already strutting off. If that was the reason, then the safety of the fort was in danger. "And bring him back."

Gilbert nodded, wasting no time to dash off to gather his stuff. Roderich, however, hesitated. Weakly, he asked, "What if an Italian attacks us?"

The Brit wanted to find something and hit himself with it. "That's what guns are for," he drawled sarcastically. His fake smile turned into a snarl. "Arm yourselves and get going!" He paused, imagining the beating King Feliks would give him for causing another Hundred Years War. "And while you're at it, find Francis!"

* * *

Francis had not been having a good life. That was right- _life_. It wasn't just his day or week that sucked, it was his life. But that was too overly dramatic; after all, his life hadn't started to get bad until he got into that argument with Arthur. Since then, it had been going farther and farther down south.

Like how he had been lost in these Godforsaken woods for weeks now. He'd only survived for a number of reasons, the main one being that he had been eating nothing but tart berries. The blond was caked in dried mud and red scratches. His clothes were beyond salvation- dirty and ripped all over. His hair was greasy and random leaves and twigs stuck out from it. But that was not the worst part.

The worst part was that the only other human he'd seen had been Antonio, the very Spaniard who got him into this quagmire in the first place. Every time Francis saw him, he would desperately ask for directions out, but the man would panic and run away.

"_Why must you be so cruel Antoine?" _He mourned, dragging his feet across the ground. _"I've not done you any harm, so why do you-" _That was when his foot snag on the trap.

We must now pause and go to what had been going on in Antonio's mind after he talked to Signor Jones. Something the willow had said made him believe that the only way to get rid of his stalker problem was to catch him like a rabbit. And that was just what he did- set up a rope rabbit trap at the base of a tall tree.

For the first few minutes of being upside down, Francis struggled and tried to reach the rope around his ankle. Even when he did reach it, he discovered that the knots were too tight. Then he started screaming for help.

His voice spread through the forest, reaching unwanted ears. These ears included Antonio and Sadiq. The Spaniard had been patrolling the perimeter and the other had been interrogating him on Feli's location. "You always know where the Vargas boys are," the warrior had been saying when the distinct noise reached him. "What's that?" he asked as his friend paled. "That sounds like a man."

A wave of panic shot through the other. "I'll take care of it," Antonio said quickly, lifting his axe onto his shoulder. Before another word could be spoken, he dashed into the woods and to his trap.

A little over five minutes later, he burst through the brush and saw Francis hanging like a dropping vine. His normally white face was a beet red and his arms were crossed angrily over his chest. Antonio couldn't help but to smile. "What do we have here?" He asked, bending down to his victim's height. "It's a little white hare."

The blond grimaced. "Antoine, si vous plait, please let me down," he begged with pleading blue eyes. "I just want to go home."

"Go home?" He repeated, blinking rapidly. "You're going back to France?"

"I mean Felikstown. Mon Dieu, Arthur must be so worried. . ."

Antonio thought about it for a moment. If he let Francis go, then maybe he wouldn't have to fear leaving the village anymore. Then again, the white man might have spied on his people in some way. "You're home is in France," he said, standing straight. The other's face fell. "Until the other Englishmen are leaving for good, I will not release you."

The Frenchman's face painted a look of sheer horror. "I'll starve to death before that happens!"

The dark skin man was already walking away, saying, "Then I'll give you some berries next time we visit. Adios~!"

There was only one reply that came to the hanging man's mind: "But I've been eating nothing _but_ berries!"

* * *

" . . . and I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me," Heinrich finished, allowing Feli to pull him along by the hand. Their whole escape from the village had been filled with the German trying to explain his actions. He just said what he thought was necessary: he acted irrationally and he wished he hadn't hurt the other's feelings. No mentions of his confused sexually. No, Heinrich did not want to scare Feli at all. After all, he didn't know if the boy even liked him back.

Yet, every time the brunette smiled at him, the German's heart could not help but to flutter. Even as a boy, he was adorable. "Vee, of course I forgive you," Feli said, pulling him into a cool glen. His smile great brighter as his trail led them onto a large tree root. "After all, you are my best friend."

Heinrich smiled softly. Best friend, he could deal with that. He was still new to this and had no idea how to even flirt with another guy. The German looked up and saw the dark ceiling of the willow tree's vines and branches. Sun filtered through the swaying leaves, creating a stained-glass pattern on the ground.

"This is amazing," he breathed, taking a seat on a smooth, circular spot on the roots. "And to think we came all this way to dig it up for gold."

"Gold?" the Italian repeated. He sat next to him, smoothing his skirts delicately. "Why would you come here for that?"

Worry washed over the blond. There was a tone in his voice that confirmed every greedy man's fear. Still, he had to say, "It's what every explorer is after. They found it in Nova Espana so it has to be here too."

"Papa said that he was originally sent here to find gold," Feli recited, as if reflecting back on a lost memory. "But he said that after five long years of searching, they could never find any."

Heinrich frowned as a shallow laugh bubbled on his lips. "No gold," he repeated, making sure the words were tangent. With that goal eliminated, all of their hard word would had been for nothing. People like Elizaveta, whom risked everything to be there, would have to walk away empty handed. "All this way for nothing. Those boys are in for a big surprise . . ."

"Will they leave?" Feli asked, laying down on his back. His brown eyes stared up at the plant roof above him. A swell of sadness was pressing on his chest.

The blond merely shrugged. "Some of them might."

He looked the older boy in the eye. "Would you go home?"

Again, another shrug. "It's not as if I have a home to go to," he explained. "My vatti and I aren't necessarily on the best of terms right now. I really don't belong anywhere."

Feli smiled brightly, snapping upright. In an ecstatic voice, he suggested, "You can belong here!" He could see it now. Romulus would be glad to accept the foreigner into their village. He could have a house right by his and they could play together every day.

Heinrich, seeing his own fantasies, returned the expression. He wouldn't mind living in the New World. It was peaceful, much different from the English court. There was- of course -the problem of King Feliks. That would mean that he would have to drop his espionage job soon. He could not live here if he had to continue to spy on Kirkland.

There was a loud, pompous laugh echoing around them, asking, "Dude, who's this guy?"

Heinrich shot his head around erratically, searching for the voice. "What was that?" he asked, blue eyes wide. If any of the pale men saw him with an Italian . . .

"That's just Signor Jones," Feli chirped, handling the situation with ease. He pointed the other's face to where the willow's face would usually appear. For a few moments, nothing happened.

Just as the German started to question the other's sanity, Signor Jones revealed his wrinkled bark face. "Hey there Heinrich!" It called, grinning madly. "How've you been?"

All Heinrich could do was stare blankly. Was that tree alive? How was that possible? Did Gilbert spike his drink with something funny? He nudged the boy and whispered, "Feliciano, that tree is talking to me."

The child only leaned in and whispered, "Then you should talk about."

"What do you say to a tree?"

He pushed the German unto his feet and closer to the eternally grinning Signore Jones. "Anything you want," he said confidently. "If you have anything on your mind, you just tell Signore Jones and he'll give you advice."

Heinrich shot a crazy look to him before realizing that the tree was looking at him expectantly. He had to say something. There were things on his mind, but . . . "_They're too personal!" _The blond thought, looking down at his boots. Who would ever expect to be stuck in a situation like this? After a long moment, he tried to speak, stumbling over his words. "So, uh . . er, I-"

"Dude, you have a good soul," the tree said suddenly, peering into his chest. His wood eyes seemed to pierce through his skin and into his very soul. Heinrich could only gulp; He didn't know how to react to that statement. "And man!" it added happily. "Dang, you're handsome!"

Fortunately, Heinrich knew what to say to that one. He smiled and wrapped a proud arm around his boy. "Oh, I like him," he said, giving the other a small squeeze.

Feli laid his head on his shoulder, causing him to blush. "I knew you would-"

"Heinrich!"

"Bruder!"

The couple paused, rigid with fear. "Vee, who's that?" Feli asked, starting to glance at the source. In the distance, they could hear the loud crunching of dead leaves and the soft murmur of German accents.

Heinrich quickly shoved the boy behind Signor Jones's trunk, glancing behind his back for more intruders. "That's mein bruder and friend." he whispered, taking the spot next to him. The Italian wanted to say something, but there was a aura of secrecy and fear about him. He thought it best to actually listen to him. They waited as Gilbert and Roderich took a step onto its roots, casually chatting with each other.

" . . . if we're to blame anyone, it's Vladimir," Roderich was saying, wiping a layer of sweat from his brow. They had been searching all day with no rest. Their throats felt sore and they only wanted to return to the safety of the fort. "If he hadn't said those things about Miss Héderváry, then we wouldn't have ended up in this situation."

Gilbert huffed and paused in his tracks. His brother tensed further behind the tree, nudging Feli along with him. The albino didn't notice; he laid his gun at his feet, leaned down, and placed his hands over his knees. "Ja, but I don't give a shit what Kirkland thinks of the awesome me," he smirked, catching his last breath. "It's Elizaveta I'm worried about. The minute she catches whiff of it, she's never going to let either of us forget it."

Heinrich raised an eyebrow. _"What in Gott's name did bruder do?"_ he wondered, pressing Feli close to his chest.

Meanwhile, the brunette eased himself onto a root, laying his rifle by his side. "What do you mean by that?"

"Elizaveta finds male relationships fascinating," the other said, taking a seat next to him. "It's scary how worked up she can get over the very thought of them. So not awesome."

There was a short pause between them as they took in the silence of the glen. Signore Jones hid its face from them, appearing like a normal willow. It watched as Rodderich bit his lips, trying to find the proper wording. Cautiously, he asked, "Gilbert, what do you think of Elizaveta?"

"She's a pain in my ass," the other replied easily, picking at his ear. "I hope she dies a long, painful, unawesome death."

"Well I like her," the Austrian stated, ignoring the other's faked hate. Gilbert gave him a horrified look as he smiled softly. "She is rather amazing, isn't she? The way she can stand up to Vlad and Kirkland . . . it's-"

"-It's annoying, that's what!"

Signore Jones's secretly smirked as he carefully moved his vines to position. Heinrich and Feli stifled a laugh as it whipped them across their backs. Both of them howled, jumping to their feet and grabbing their guns. "What the hell was that?" Gilbert yelled, red eyes darting everywhere.

"I-I don't k-know," the brunette stammered, adjusting his glasses. "You don't think this place is haunted, do you?"

He laughed. "Rodderich, do you think the awesome me believes in something like ghosts-" Signore Jones whipped their butts with a satisfying snap. They both howled, gripping their behinds and darting out of the glen. "Let's get out of here!"' The albino ordered, stumbling over his feet.

"What about your bruder?"

"He's awesome, he can take care of himself!"

The couple waited until their pounding footsteps had faded up to come out. Feli immediately sprang over to his usual spot, spun in a circle, and flopped to the ground. His German crush grimaced, giving the willow a side look. "I'm glad you're on our side," he said, already checking to make sure he had everything.

Signore Jones laughed, flicking his vines. "Dude, I am the awesome one, not snowboy."

He shook his head. muttering, "You sure are . . ." He adjusted his bag and gave the younger boy a stern look. "I need to get going," he said sadly. "If I don't return soon, Gilbert's going to send the whole camp after me."

Feli pouted, a sorrowful look dancing in his eyes. "But I want to see you again," he whined, tears forming in his eyes. A pit of guilt dug itself in the other's gut.

Heinrich knelt to his height, placing a sure hand on his shoulder. Without hesitation, he gave him a time and place: "Meet me here, tonight." He started to draw away, but quickly formed an idea. From his pocket, he drew his precious brown compass. "Keep this, that way you don't accidentally forget."

The Italian stared at the gift for a moment before gently taking it in hand. "I promise I wouldn't." His German friend affectionately ran his hand through his hair before marching off into the woods.

Feli stared at the spot where he used to be. He knew that it would not be smart to see the pale man again, but there was something tugging at him. It demanded that he spent every possible second by his side. The boy placed the compass in his pocket, not giving it a second thought.

Signore Jones observed him with interest. His cute face was drawn seriously. It greatly resembled Helen's. "Feli, have you considered that Heinrich could be the one?" it asked, vines swaying in the breeze.

Feli looked at it, tilting his head in a cute, oblivious way. "What do you mean?"

"In your dream! The spinning arrow was pointing to someone. Maybe its Heinrich!"

The child brightened and jumped to his feet. "Do you really think so?" he asked, growing more excited by the second.

The tree only smiled. A smile was the only thing he possibly had time left to say. Across the trees and down the river, the sounding of drums rolled through the land. Feli paled. The drums meant trouble. Bidding the tree goodbye, he ran back through the woods, letting the river shores guide him back to the village.

When his small legs grew tired, the familiar huts welcomed him over the horizon. The village was buzzing. All of the villagers were in the open, watching the citizens of their sister colonies bring their canoes to shore.

Feli's heart pounded in his chest. The soldiers arrived. War loomed over them like a impending storm. If there was a war, Heinrich might be hurt. He might even be killed. _"Just like Mama..." _

"There you are!" Lovino (with a concerned Antonio close on his trail), angrily marched over to him. His eyebrows were furrowed in frustration and his face was a beet red. "What the hell have you-"

A strong hand suddenly met the boy's shoulder. Yelling, Feli turned to see Sadiq standing proud and strong. He looked intimidating under his white mask, but a soft smile danced on his face. Much like a merchant displaying his goods, he said, "Look at them Feli! Now we have enough soldiers to destroy those English jackasses!"

Feli's lip trembled. He didn't know what to say nor what to do. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Romulus giving the other village leaders' cheeks the traditional kiss. If anyone could stop this mess, it was Papa. Determinedly, he brushed Sadiq's hand away and ran to him, calling, "Papa! I need to talk to you!"

Romulus heaved his shoulders. The man was stressed. Nothing in his job had prepared him for an impending war. Still, he gently knelt to his son's height. In tired words, he told him, "Not now, Feli. The council is gathering."

When he made to walk away, Feli only grabbed his hand. We don't have to fight them!" He cried, tears falling from his brown eyes. There was a pitiful sound of desperation in his voice. "There must be a better way!"

The father paused in his place. Feli would never grab him like that. The boy must have been absolutely terrified about something. Motioning for the other leaders to go on without him, he returned to his kneeling position. "Feli, I know that since your mother died, you have been afraid of being alone," he cooed, wiping away his tears. "But sometimes, our paths are chosen for us."

The child hiccupped, "But maybe we should try talking to them."

He sighed. "They do not want to talk."

Feli only pressed his lips and pushed forward. There was a small, vague plan forming in his head. "But if one of them did want to talk, you would listen to him, wouldn't you?"

Romulus glanced back to where he should be and rose. "Feliciano-"

Tears overflowing, Feli angrily stomped his foot on the ground, yelling, "_Wouldn't you?" _

They were both silent for a long moment. The father stared at the son. Feli's lips were curled in an undeniable pout. There was, however, a fire blazing in his large brown eyes. Romulus didn't know exactly what it was, but it made him uneasy.

He glanced behind to Sadiq. His eyes pleaded for the Turk to come to the rescue. Only when the man was walking to them did Romulus say, "Of course I would. But it is not that simple."

Sadiq wrapped his arms around Feli, calmly petting his hair. His stubbed chin brushed on his cheek as he whispered soothing tones into the boy's ear. His supposedly comforting motions only made the little boy more terrified. He fought his face free, barely able to hear his father say, "Nothing is simple anymore."

* * *

**MW: **This movie is so slow!

**BFTL: **No wonder this movie didn't do so well. . .

**MW: **Whatever. Please review.

**Funfacts and Translations**

"si vous plait" Please. French.

"Mon Dieu" My God. French.

"Nova Espana" New Spain. Latin.

"snowboy" You get it? Because he's pale? And whiit? Like snow?

**Next Chapter: **Tensions rises.

****Please Review!****


	6. Chapter 6

**MW: **Today has just not been my day.

**BFTL: **How so, maestro?

**MW: **First LS got banished by the FF admids and then I had to fiddle with Microsoft docs for ten minutes trying to get it to work. And nowI find out that this is a very short chapter!

**BFTL: **Well it's better than nothing.

**MW: ***Grumble* And to top the icing on this rotten cake, FF restricted my publishing abilities for two freaking days, so I had to delay posting this until today. Stupid . . .

Anyways, thanks for all the reviews, story alerts and favs. Updates will now be done on a weekly basis. Please be awesome and review.

**Chapter Summary: **Heinrich and Feli try to meet one last time, but then a sexy disaster strikes.

**Warnings: **Strong Language, Sexual References, and Violence

**Disclaimer: **Apparently, FF owns everything. Not me, not Walt, not Hima-Pops

* * *

**~Chapter 6~**

* * *

Elizaveta stood stiffly at the fort's entrance, musket over her shoulder. It was maybe half an hour before sunset and she had the first watch of the night. The Hungarian felt a swell of thrill in her stomach. Governor Kirkland had assigned her the job. It was the first real sign of him showing any kind of respect towards her. Sure, she was only at the side gap- unimportant compared to the guards on the high platforms, but she did not care. She was not going to fail.

There was a crunch of leaves somewhere in the woods ahead. The brunette snapped her gun into the proper grip and aimed. All was tensed for a moment. "Come out where I can see you," she growled, tensing her trigger finger. All was silent for a second.

Then, "Easy Elizaveta, it's just me."

The girl eased, lowering her weapon as Heinrich stepped into the open. "Be careful Heinrich," she scolded. Embarrassment lingered in her voice. If Kirkland found out that she nearly killed his favorite . . . "I could have killed you."

Surprisingly, he shook his head. "No you wouldn't have. You're too nice of a person." Heinrich gently took her gun from her, aiming it carefully into the maze of trees. He said, "If you're friends are ever in trouble, don't ask questions, just shoot."

"Bruder!" Seemingly from nowhere, Gilbert jumped onto him, wrapping his legs around his waist. "Where have you been!" He cried, looking as worried as he sounded. Their Hungarian onlooker could not help but to giggle. "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Heinrich could only grimace. "I was, um . . ."

"Beilschmidt!" A crowd of men turned their heads to Kirkland's next victim. The governor's red coat fluttered around him in a fiery aura as he marched angrily to them. Tao trailed behind him, holding a stack of papers in his hands. His usually passive look painted his face as his boss demanded, "Where have you been?"

The German peeled his brother off, trying to form some plan. He was no fool- informing the man of his love affair would only make things worse. "I was out scouting the terrain," he lied, resuming a stoic expression. His face was not used to it. When Heinrich was around Feli, it seemed as though he could never stop smiling. Now he could barely even hide his expressions.

But instead of being sniffed out, the Brit accepted his excuse with ease. With a proud smile, he declared, "Excellent. Then you must know the Italians' whereabouts." Heinrich paled. "We'll need that information for the battle." Immediately, every pale man in Felikstown started chattering. Since when were they going to war?

"What battle?" Roderich demanded, taking a step from the crowd. He was easily backed up by Tino and Berwald. Still, his face was pasty with fear. It felt as though he was defying his leader's orders, something the Austrian swore to never do. If he did, he would be nothing better than Gilbert.

Arthur Kirkland scowled at the brunette before returning his attention to Heinrich. A slimy smile covered his face when he saw how pale Heinrich's stunned face was. He was finding endless joy in watching the boy squirm. Plus, it was only further confirming his suspicion. He firmly ordered, "We will eliminate these savages once and for all."

"Nein!" Heinrich made to step forward, but Gilbert grabbed his hand and held him back. The governor raised a thick eyebrow as the two exchanged a silent conversation of expressions. He did not expect such a reaction from him. Even with his brother's disagreement, the younger one growled, "You can't do that, sir."

He only gave a cruel laugh. "Oh? Can't I?"

The German was at a loss. His boss was not going to listen to him. Perhaps, then, his fellow colonists would. He faced them, giving them each a pleading look. "We don't have to fight them-"

Gilbert placed a hand on his shoulder. "Heinrich, what's gotten into you?" he asked.

His brother gave a defeated sigh. He did not want to do this, but it was to save Feli. He had to save Feli. Painfully, he muttered the truth. "I met one of them."

Every man except Kirkland physically wielded back. Gilbert quickly gripped his shoulders, barely able to exclaim, "You what?"

Meanwhile, Elizaveta's green eyes widen as she placed two and two together. That hopeless crush he had was from the enemy? "An Italian?" she muttered, trying to think of who it could have been. Was it the man she had fired at during the earlier skirmish?

His fellow's shock only seemed to make Heinrich more justified. "They're not savages," he said, once again pushing his brother away. "They can help us. They know the land, they know how to navigate the rivers. They're just like us!"

Roderich rubbed the bridge of his nose. "But they attacked us!"

To his boss's displeasure, Tao gave a small shrug. "But we, like, attacked them first," he pointed out, pretending not to notice Kirkland's glare.

He flicked the cuffs of his coat, turning to his charges. In a loud, almost angry voice, the blond declared, "They don't want to help us, you ninnies! They want to kill us! All of us! They've got our gold, and they'll do anything to keep it!"

Heinrich wanted to bang his head against the fort's wood walls. "But there is no gold!"

Elizaveta only proceeded to look more distressed. "No gold?" she repeated, seeing her fantasy crumble away like stone. Everything she worked hard for was gone. The men all around her wore similar expressions of despair.

Again, Kirkland gave a loud laugh. "And I suppose your little Italian friend told you that?"

Heinrich scowled at him and took another step forward. This time, his brother did not stop him from glaring straight into the man's acid eyes. His "ja" was uttered in complete defiance.

"Lies!" The governor did not bother returning the glare, only coming to his men to support. They were, after all, the ones he could manipulate. "Lies, all of it! Murderous thieves, there's no room for their kind in civilized society. "

"They are from civilized society!" He countered. "And they were here first; this is their land!"

Like the bells of the great European cathedrals, Kirkland bellowed, "This is my land! I make the laws here or did you forget that?" At last, he returned his opponent's glare. He had to look down to do so, only making seem grander and more powerful than he really was. Still, Heinrich evenly returned it. "And I say anyone so much as looks at an Italian without killing him on sight, will be tried for treason and hanged."

* * *

The silver moon hung low in the rural sky. Its soft glow lay like a blanket on the grass, giving Feli a fair idea of where to step. The compass his friend had given him lay safety in his pocket, reminding him of his meeting that night. He had to show and warn Heinrich about his Papa's plans for attack. With the iron cross that lay over his heart, the boy only thought that it was the right thing to do.

The one thing Helen would have done.

He had just about reached the border of the village when an angry voice hissed, "Feli!"

Pausing, he turned and saw Lovino and Antonio quietly chasing after him. They were barely able to slip by the fire where Sadiq was sitting, cleaning his dagger. The taller one looked around worriedly as his fiancé fumed. He sharply marched to his younger brother and jammed a finger into his cute face. "Don't go out there, idiota," he whispered, wary of the Turk's close proximity. "I lied for you once, damnit! Don't ask me to do it again."

Feli shook his head. It killed him to think that he was making his older brother so upset. "I'm sorry fratello, but I have to do this."

"That bastard's not worth it," the other resorted.

"He is to me." The Italian's eye flickered up to Antonio, begging for help. His Spanish friend looked away sadly, placing a supporting hand on his older brother's shoulders. "It's what Mama would have wanted," he continued. "And there is nothing you can do to stop me."

Lovino's lip curled. To think his brother mentioned their mother so easily. . . "I can tell the old man," he threatened. "He'll fucking kill you when he finds out-"

Tears pricked Feli's brown eyes. His skinny knees touched the ground as he pressed his lips on his brother's dirty shoes. "Please don't tell him!" He pleaded, voice thick with sobs. "I'm trying to make sure no one gets hurt."

The hot-tempered Italian's resolve did not falter. He only gave a 'humph' and held his chin high in the air. However, someone did melt for him. Antonio left his side and knelt to Feli's form. "Mi amour, I'll go with him," he decided, well aware of the looming consequences. "I'll make sure he's safe," he told Lovino. "If anything grows too dangerous, then I'll make sure he gets out of there safe."

Feli lifted his face up, eyes gleaming with happiness. "Vee, really?" Antonio nodded, ignoring Lovino's glare. The boy jumped to his feet and ecstatically dragged him out of the village. "Adiamo! Heinrich is probably waiting for us!"

"Wait, I have to grab my axe!"

Lovino started at them, fear behind the fake hate in his amber eyes. He couldn't let his fratello and fiancé throw their lives away. He had to do something.

In total, it took twenty minutes for him to gather the courage to approach Sadiq's fire. He stood at the edge of the orange glow, hoping that the man did not notice him. He had to tell someone about Feli, someone who might actually be willing to do something about it. And that one person was his brother's betrothed.

Sadiq ran a cloth over his dagger for another five minutes, unaware of the Italian's presence. Lovino tried to calm the embarrassed red tint in his face to no avail. He tried to speak, but the words would not leave his throat. At last, Sadiq placed his weapon on his lap, sighing. "Lovino, I know you're there," he said, not bothering to look at him. "Is there a reason why you are watching me?"

Lovino felt more pings of embarrassment ring through him. Biting his lip, he looked away. "Bastard," he spat, forcing the words from his lips. "I need your damn help."

The older man jumped to his feet. From behind his white mask, the Italian could see his eyes shine with concern. "What happened?" he demanded, thinking about the worst possible scenarios.

He gulped, trying to phrase his words carefully. "It's about Feli," he spat, not believing he was saying it. "He's in trouble."

* * *

Heinrich snuck out. With an unlit lantern, he snuck through the insignificant gap in the fort. He was discreet, making sure he was extra careful to avoid any of the night watch's gaze. The only problem was that someone did see him. Elizaveta, previously listening to her fellows' conversation, watched him leave with concern. She slowly rose from her spot around the fire, unsure of what to do.

She barely heard Roderich speculate about Kirkland's supposed lies when she meandered her way to the gap. The dark abyss of the woods glared back at her, daring her to enter them. Somewhere in those woods, Heinrich was meeting his lover. His _male _lover. Who was this boy and how did the German fall head over heels for him?

Suddenly, the Hungarian was pushed to the ground. She spent half a second in shock before she braced herself for impact. Smoothly, she swept her feet back into a solid stance and faced her attacker. Her back straightened when she realized that it was Kirkland. His figure was dark, but his acid eyes seemed to pierce the darkness. "Follow him," he ordered, curling his lip upwards.

Elizaveta stared at him. Show no weakness, show no fear. Slowly, she nodded. "Yes, Governor."

The man could barely believe that he was trusting the wench when he added, "I want to know who this Italian he's been seeing is."

A shot of fear ran through her. That moment, the brunette knew that Kirkland knew what she did. Heinrich had a lover and the Brit wanted him gone. Still, she was finally gaining his trust. She had to keep it. "Yes, sir."

Elizaveta had just started to walk away when Kirkland tapped her shoulder. Her back stood more erect. Show no weakness, show no fear. Slowly, she turned, just to be handed a loaded musket. "And if you happen to see any Italians, shoot them."

Anxiety held her. Her governor had basically just ordered her to murder Heinrich's lover. The Hungarian knew that she could never bring anything like that on anyone. The weapon felt like a cold serpent in her hands. "_I don't want to kill anyone," _she thought, eyes hollow with despair.

She was just about ready to run away when Kirkland added, "Oh, and Héderváry? You've been a slipshod sailor and a poor excuse for a soldier. Even for a woman. Don't disappoint me again."

He was gone before she could say anything.

* * *

The moment Feli and Antonio stepped into Signor Jones's glen, he was immediately met with a frightened tree guardian. "Dude, what's going on?" it asked, leaves swaying in fear. "The earth's trembling!"

The Spaniard, with his axe in hand, concentrated on the woods around him. He was on the lookout for Heinrich and anyone who may follow him. His charge stood in front of the tree's face, replaying the events of the day. " . . . And now there's going to be a big war," he finished, breath heavy with fear.

"Hola Heinrich!" Antonio reached out a hand and pulled said German onto the willow's roots. He also looked distressed, blue eyes darting around like a mouse hiding from an owl. There were scratches and blotches of mud from when he had tripped over rocks and roots. Even his yellow hair had traces of dirt in it.

The moment Heinrich laid eyes on Feli, he called out and placed his hands on the Italian's shoulders. With a sense of urgency, he warned, "Feli, listen to me. My men are planning to attack your people. You've got to warn them."

The Italian shook his head. "Maybe it's not too late to stop this." He placed his small hand on his wrist and tried to lead him away. "You have to come with me and talk to my papa."

Heinrich dug his heels into the ground. The sorrow on his face made the younger one pause. "Feliciano, talking isn't going to do any good," he told him. "I already tried talking to my men but Kirkland has too great of a hold around them."

Feli felt the tears well up in his eyes. "There has to be something we can do," he cried, sniffing loudly.

The pale mad stood awkwardly, unsure of what he should do to comfort him. Luckily, Antonio took his eyes off the woods for a moment and did the job for him. "Mi amigo, sometimes there isn't much we can do," he said. "Sometimes we can only pray and hope-"

"Ohonononononononon~!"

Every being in the vicinity froze in place, Antonio in particular. Signor Jones moved its face as far as it could (a few inches at most) to see the source. "What is that?" it demanded. "Whatever it is, someone should put it out of its misery."

Heinrich pushed Feli behind him. "Feli, stay behind me," he ordered. Whenever the boy questioned him, he would only say, "Just trust me."

All the while, Antonio was holding his ax towards the source. He knew who it was and he was dreading the meeting at hand. At last, Francis stumbled his way through the brush and into the moonlight. It seemed to the Spaniard that every time he saw him, he looked worse. The blond was caked head to toe in mud with cuts scattered on his skin and twigs in his hair. When his blue eyes locked on the meeting, he grinned broadly. "There you are, Antoine, I've been looking everywhere for you," he said, inching closer towards him. "I've been meaning to talk to you, non?"

The brunette held his ax up higher. "How did you escape from my trap?" He demanded, inching away slowly.

Heinrich rolled his eyes. "Francis this is not the time for this," he said, pushing Feli further behind him. His comment was ignored.

"Do not worry, I will leave," The Frenchman replied, still creeping forwards. "Once I get my revenge!" He pounced straight at Antonio who raised his ax in defense. Francis placed his hands over the staff and tried to steal control. The two stumbled back and forth, holding the ax, trying to take it from the other.

"You see what I mean?" The German asked, once the Antonio won and started slashing the ax at a barely dodging Francis. "Once two sides want to fight, nothing can stop them."

Feli peeked at the fight, trembling in fear. "Please don't kill him!" He called out, watching his brother's fiance jump up into the branches. Francis lingered at the base, shouting curses in French. "I'm sure he did nothing wrong!"

The Spaniard's head popped down from leaves, saying, "He tried to sexually harass me- mierda!" He was barely able to avoid his opponent's hand.

"How can I not touch it?" Francis demanded, trying to reach the high up branches. He was jumping like a little child, arm high in the air, smooth hand barely missing the tree.

At last, Signor Jones had enough. "Alright, that's enough!" He shouted, voice louder than thunder.

Francis stopped and turned dead white. "Sacré bleu!" He shrieked, pointing a shaking finger at the willow's face. "What is that?"

It rolled his eyes. "I'm a tree," It deadpanned. "Deal with it. But seriously, you two need to stop fighting. There are better things for us to do."

His blue eyes turned wide. "But-"

"No 'but's!" Francis looked down in shame. It was not every day one was scolded by a talking tree. Signor Jones huffed, concentrating his attention to the impending atrocity. "Heinrich, Feli." The two boys looked at it. "I want to show you. Look." Carefully, it lowered a vine to the water's smooth surface. One small, delicate touch was all it took to create a series of ripples, stretching their arms throughout the glass water.

They looked at it, not saying anything for a long moment. Antonio leapt from his perch and stood by Francis, both waiting to see what would happen. At last, Feli looked up, tilting his head to the side. "I don't get it," he said.

Signor Jones sighed and looked at Heinrich. The German shook his head. "I'm at as much of a lost as he is."

The guardian sighed once again. When a tree like him reached a certain age, it just expected everyone to understand the points it was trying to make. Helen was more than capable of doing so. But alas! It had to step in and be the hero. "Look at the ripples," it ordered.

Antonio shrugged. "What about them?"

"So small at first, then look how they grow." Every male's eyes grew large with understanding. "But someone has to start them." What the tree was telling them . . .

Heinrich heaved his shoulder and stood. "They're not going to listen to us," he said, residing himself to a war.

Signore Jones scowled. "Dude, sometimes the right path is not the easiest one," it scolded. "Don't you see?" It placed the tip of its vine under Feli's chin and motioned him to rise. The boy obliged, following it as it brought him closer to his friend. "Only when the fighting stops can you can be together."

Heinrich took Feli's hands in his, feeling the warm touch of his skin. There was an innocent glint in his brown eyes. That glint would be ruined by battle. Children like him would be ruined. The blonde sighed. "Alright, let's go talk to your papa."

Feli brightened, jumping high in the air. He wrapped his arms around his lover's neck, thanking him over and over. Heinrich blushed deeply, feeling his heart bang loudly in his chest. He gently placed his hand under Feli's chin and pointed it upward.

Francis wrapped an arm around Antonio's shoulder. "Let's give these two a bit of privacy," he said cheerfully, leading him into the woods. His friend looked behind his shoulder, saying something about him needing to keep his promise. The Frenchman just laughed and took him to the trees.

It wasn't until they had left did Heinrich give into his desires. Gently, he pressed his lips into Feli's. Like he suspected, they were soft and warm. The Italian did not hesitate to return the favor, feeling a warm feel well up in his chest. For the longest moment, it was just them, revealing and sharing their love for each other.

But even the sweetest of moments cannot last forever.

There were two people watching: Elizaveta and Sadiq.

The girl hid in the brush, standing in silent shock and awe. That was the child she had to kill. She could never do such a thing. The only thing she could do was watch in the woods.

Sadiq, on the other hand, harbored a feeling of hate. Who was this white man and why was he invading Feli as such? Who was he to pull the child along on a string? It was his duty to protect his future husband from harm. Gripping the handle of his dagger, he pressed his mask closer to his face and ran out into the open.

Heinrich saw him first. He looked up and the Turk running straight towards him. "Feli! Watch out!" He pushed the boy safely behind him and raised his hands in defense. A split second later, he was holding Sadiq's dagger over his face, grunting at the brute force.

Feli cried out, feeling as if the worst possible situation was upon them. "Sadiq!" He jumped up and wrapped his arms around the man's waist. "Stop!"

Sadiq only brushed him away. "Feli, get out of here," he ordered, bearing more force downward. Heinrich cried out from the stress. "Go back to the village!"

Elizaveta leapt from her hiding place, fumbling with her gun. She no longer saw two children in love, but her friend in trouble. Her legs carried her to the glen without an order or thought. Heinrich saved her, she had to save him. Still running, she raised her gun high, aiming at Sadiq's head. Signore Jones, lifted his root, tripping her. The Hungarian fell hard, losing her grip on her musket. It skidded a few feet out of her reach.

Heinrich grinded his teeth together, trying to keep the weapon away. But his legs were giving out. Slowly, he felt himself fall into a kneel. The blond released one more grunt before releasing his grasp. He rolled out of the dagger's line of attack.

Sadiq stumbled a few steps, nearly losing his balance. His amber eyes registered Elizaveta's presence, but he ignored her. When he turned, he saw Heinrich cooing for Feli to run back to the village. That was his chance. The Turk raised his weapon high, ready to kill the German on the spot.

But at the last second, Feli stepped in front of his love.

A gun went off.

* * *

**MW: **Oh Disney and your unnecessary deaths, how I hate you so.

**BFTL: **Poor Sadiq . . . at least we're nearing the end of this fic (Finally)

**MW: **Remember to review!

**Too Pissed to Post Translations**

**Next Chapter: ** IF I NEVER KNEW YOU~

****HELP ME FEEL BETTER BY REVIEWING****


	7. Chapter 7

**MW: **That's it, I am updating this! I've waited long enough!

**BFTL: **Oh my God, finally! This story has been done for months now. I thought you forgot about it.

**MW: **Nope, I'm just lazy and right now my head hurts too much to concentrate on homework.

**BFTL: **Of course.

**MW: **And remember to review.

**Chapter Summary: **After a rather unnecessary death, shit starts happening.

**Warnings: **Blood, Strong Language, Sexual references, and death.

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing.

* * *

**~Chapter 7~**

Sadiq's eyes went wide as the life left him. His last move was to reach for the boy he died protecting. His large hand reached his neck and tugged on the iron cross. The chain broke and the medal landed with a loud _clank! _

A dark pool of blood spilled from his chest, reflecting the moon and leaves' reflection. Feli stared at it, not registering what the substance was. Heinrich, however, was staring at Elizaveta. She laid on her stomach, aiming her gun where Sadiq used to be. There was a dead look in her green eyes.

"Ó Istenem . . ." She breathed, looking a pale white. The girl, in fact, looked ready to barf. It was her first kill and was not a pleasant one. " . . . Heinrich . . . I-"

"You killed him!" Feli made to lung at her, but the German held him back. Grief struck him like it did with Helen. He felt like Lovino: Unable to control any of his emotions. "You killed him!" The woman stared at him blankly, She had no idea what he was saying.

"Feliciano, that won't help," Heinrich said, holding the child back. The Italian lost his fire and burst into tears. He fell to his knees, sobbing loudly. His sobs, however, could not hide the sound of approaching Italians.

The blond turned to his friend, ordering in English, "Leave."

She shook her head. "No. How can I-"

"Get out of here!" The men were upon them. With one last hard look from him, Elizaveta picked herself off the ground and ran back to Felikstown. She unknowingly passed Antonio and Francis, watching from the safety of the trees.

"Are you going to do something?" The French envoy asked, watching Heinrich be roughly tackled by Italian colonist. He was bound and hauled away. Two other men picked the corpse off the ground.

The Spaniard shook his head. "I was told to never support what I didn't believe," he said, watching a few men try to ease Feli away. But the only thing the haunted child could do was stare at the iron cross, laying in the pool of blood.

Francis looked at him, curiosity in his eyes. He asked, "What do you believe in?"

For a long moment, he was silent. Feli left the glen, leaving the blood to be its only occupant. Antonio emerged from his hiding spot and walked to it. Francis trailed him like a lost dog. The man observed the scene coldly. The tip of his boots touched the blood pool's edge.

As if noticing it for the first time, he scrutinized it carefully. He bent down and pulled Heinrich's iron cross from it. Even covered with red, the silver was able to shine in the moon. Antonio gave his answer: "I believe in the ripples."

* * *

Death, in any culture, is not welcomed company. It often meant heartache and days, possibly years, of numbed conscience. If you loved someone enough, surely it was not possible for the one you loved to leave you forever? Romulus was no stranger to that feeling. His precious wife had died, leaving him with two sons to raise while leading a village. In short, he was unforgiving to those who would cause the pain he had felt onto others.

Knowing this, imagine the moment his men brought forth the limp body of Sadiq Adnan. The shrill crying of the ones who loved the Turk made the rage in his heart swirl into his hot blood. Brown eyes alive with furry, he glared at the crowd. "Who did this?" he demanded, clenching his fist.

Two more men approached the leader. They kicked and dragged along Heinrich, who (to his credit) was bearing the bruising and beating with only a mild grimace. Throwing him to the ground, the men stood at an erect attention, arms strictly at their sides. "Feliciano was out in the woods," one of them promptly reported. "Sadiq went to find him and this Englishman attacked them."

Romulus pressed his lips. For an instant, he felt a curt fear- A fear that his youngest son could have possibly died. It only made his blind ire worse. Using his staff, the Italian pointed the prisoner's face upward. The full moon illuminated the features of his pale physique. "Your weapons are strong," he told him, speaking a growling Italian. "But now our anger is stronger." He looked at Heinrich.

There was a knowing look in his vivid blue eyes, one that told him that the white man knew everything he had just said. Yet, the boy just frowned and said nothing to help himself.

It was that silent rebellion that scared him.

Snapping up, his gaze glanced over all of the colonists he had sworn to protect. In a voice like thunder, he declared, "At sunrise he will be the first to die!"

It was met with immediate conversing. Men and women exchanged equal concern over it. The first to die? They were very much going to war. If anyone had any objection, it was not heard over the noise of Feli's.

Said boy pushed his way through the crowd until he was up front. His breath was scarce and panicked. Eyes shifting over his father and his lover, his lip began to tremble. "But Papa-"

"I told you to stay in the village," Romulus scolded, furrowing his eyebrows. His normal carefree, patient attitude was gone. Now, it was replaced with a cold shell. "You disobeyed me. You have shamed your father."

The tears- once again -began falling. He cried, "I was only trying to help!"

"Because of your foolishness, Sadiq is dead!" The boy froze. Never in his life had he heard his father use such a tone. It sounded like wolves on the hunt, poised and ready to attack.

For a moment, Romulus's eyes softened. "_Perhaps," _he figured. "_I'm being too hard on him." _The thought quickly disintegrated when his gaze found Heinrich again. Growling, he turned on his heel and returned to his hut. "Take him away." The men wasted no time in lifted Heinrich to his feet and painfully dragging him to his prison.

For a millisecond, Heinrich and Feli's eyes met. The blue eyes shone with accepted sadness before turning away.

Feli felt weak. Crying thicker tears, he fell to his knees and buried his face into his hands. Boisterous sobs escaped his mouth as he felt himself drown in sorrow and anguish. To him, it was all lost. Heinrich was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. And, like his father said, it was all his fault.

Among all of his crying, he barely noticed his older brother slowly, timidly approach him. Immediately, Feli spilled one of the few thoughts on his mind. "Sadiq was just coming to protect me," he sobbed, feeling unable to breathe.

Lovino, meanwhile, was struck with a grief of his own. In his mind, he was at more fault. Was it not he who sent the 'Turkish Bastard' to his death. Was he not the murder, not ever-innocent Feli? He should be the one confined in guilt, not his little fratello.

Taking a deep breath, he swallowed his pride and did his best to confess. The words stuck to the sides of his throat, making each syllable spit painfully from it. "Feli . . . I . . ." His brother never looked up at him. Lovino scowled and quickly spat, "I fucking sent Sadiq after you."

The younger brother finally looked up. His face was flushed and his eyes were red. "Vee, you what?"

Lovino took another breath. "I was worried about you," he admitted, shifting his amber eyes to the ground. The moon was bright enough to create a shadow for him to kick at. "I thought I was doing the damn right thing."

There was a small silence between them. Neither one of them wanted to speak. Feli just wished that the dawn could come and pass. Just go to a time when he did not have to think of such lamentable undoings.

Still sniffling, he rubbed his arm under his nose. "All of this happened because of me," he said, feeling the compass beneath the folds of his dress. It felt heavier than the largest weight in the world. His tears fell from his eyes and landed softly on the green cloth. "And now I'll never seen Heinrich Beilschmidt again." His voice hitched. "I wish I never met him, that way . . ." He trailed off when Lovino suddenly hugged him.

It had been a long time since it had happened. The last incident had been on Helen's funeral day. Feli had been such a small child, clutching his papa's hand with fright. The very thought of the woman was making him sob loudly and incessantly.

In a blink of an eye, Lovino had his arms around his younger brother. He embraced him tightly, pressing his small frame into his own. It was desperate and silent; A way of begging, "Never leave me."

And now, he was doing it again. The sheer thought of the action showed the weight of the situation before them.

Feli melted into his brother, digging his nails into his back and burying his face into the other's neck. Many of the villagers scattered at the sight, giving them some privacy. The brothers did not part for what felt like a long time.

When they did, a surprising sentence left Lovino's mouth. "Come with me."

Feli tilted his head. "Why, fratello?"

He scowled and looked down again. A tinge of red laid on his cheeks as he tried to convey the reason. Angrily, he asked, "You want to see the white bastard again, right?" The younger one nodded. "Then get your ass moving and come with me."

Still unsure, Feliciano had no other choice but to accept his brother's hand and follow him. He was led to the far side of the village, to the hut where all prisoners were kept. It was rarely used, but when it was, it was mostly for people who were too drunk to be in public.

For the first time in both of the boy's lives, there were guards posted in front of the entrance. Seeing them, Lovino bit his lips. He had not anticipated that. He considered for a moment, turning back and not bothering at all. However, the feeling of Feli's hand in his made his stubbornness show.

Gaining an air of superiority, Lovino held his chin high and approached them. "Feliciano wants to look into the eyes of the bastard who killed Sadiq," he said, glaring at them.

The two guards looked at him, the sniffling boy, then back at each other. "I'm sorry kid," one of them said. "But you're both too young to be going in there."

He curled his lips. "Do you bastards dare defy the will of your future leader?" he demanded, a vein popping in his forehead. "If you want to keep your fucking jobs, then I suggest you let Feli in."

"You're just a kid," the second one pipped. He sounded tired and exasperated. "What are you going to do? Cry to Romulus?"

"And knowing the Old Man, he'll listen." Reluctantly, the guards sighed again. Stomping his foot on the ground, Lovino snapped, "Are you letting him in or not?"

The first guard pulled back the deer skin slap. "Make it quick," he ordered, glaring at the kid who bested him.

Feli continued to cling to his brother's arm. As far as he could see, the inside of the hut was completely dark. It looked like the mouth of a hungry monster. Whimpering, he hid his face in the other's back. Scowling, he yanked him away and shoved him forwards. Stumbling, Feli gave shifting looks to the looming guards before entering the abyss.

Surprising, the inside was much better than he originally anticipated. There was a large hole in the ceiling, allowing the light on the moon to illuminate the room. Stuck through it was a large wood pole. Tied to said pole was Heinrich.

In a flash, Feli had his arms fiercely around him. Heinrich stiffened (he was lost in thought about the situation at hand) before melting into it. "I'm so sorry," The younger boy muttered, keeping his voice low. Even he knew that the guards outside might hear him.

The German laughed, attempting to bring the smile back upon the other's cute face. "For what, this?" he asked. "I've gotten out of worse scrapes than this, like . . ." A lie failed to hit him. "Can't think of any right now, but-"

Feli shook his head, saying, "It would've been better if we'd never met, none of this would've happened."

"Feli, look at me." The Italian obliged. He stared in awe at the man. His lips were drawn in a soft smile whereas those blue eyes seemed to glow with knowledge. "I'd rather die tomorrow than live a hundred years without knowing you, do you understand?"

"But-"

"I feel as though my whole life has a purpose just because I met you," he said. "Because if I never knew you, I would have no inkling of how precious life can be."

"Feli?" They both saw Lovino at the hut's entrance. Amid the Italian's permanent scowl was a look of true concern. "We have to go now."

The brother held his temper when Feli affectionately cuffed the pale man's cheek. He whispered, "I can't leave you."

"You never will." Heinrich closed his eyes and pressed his cheek into his warm hand. "No matter what happens to me, I'll always be with you. Forever. Now go."

Hesitantly, Feli rose. He kept his hand on the other's face until his legs painfully moved him too far away. His brown eyes never left him until Lovino finally dragged him out into the open.

Alone again, Heinrich leaned into the pole. He did not have to lie; everything he told his love was true. He was so grateful for filling up an empty hole in his life he never knew existed.

Eyes closed shut, he resigned himself to his fate.

* * *

"Help! Somebody, help!" Kirkland glanced up from the book he was reading. That voice sounded a lot like that stupid wench. A small, devious smile drew on his lips. "_I wonder if she did as she was told." _Placing the book, _Romeo and Juliet, _on the desk, he motioned for Tao to join him at his tent flap.

Outside, Elizaveta was surrounded by concerned colonists. In millions of different accents, they repeatedly asked her what had happened. "Heinrich," she panted, trying to catch her breath. "They got him."

Kirkland raised a thick brow. _"An interesting turn of events."_

Gilbert roughly took her shoulders. A look of panic shone in his red orbs. "Where's mein bruder?" he demanded, shaking her lightly. "Who has him?" It took the combined efforts of Berwald and Vladimir to pull him away.

Looking remorseful, the green-eyed Hungarian defeatedly shook her head. "The Italians captured him and took him North. There was at least a dozen of them." she said, resisting the urge to cry. The murder she had committed was still fresh in her memory. "Gilbert, I'm so sorry, I-"

"We have to save him!" The Prussian declared, the panic gone. Now, there was nothing but rage possessing, controlling him. "Mein bruder would do the same for us."

Kirkland saw his moment. Believing the gold to be as good as his, he stepped out into the open, ordering his servant to grab his gun. "And so we shall!" Strutting to the front of the crowd, he took a torch off of a post and swung in front of him, illuminating his audience's faces. "I told you those savages couldn't be trusted. Beilschmidt tried to befriend them, and look what they've done to him. But now I say it's time to rescue our courageous comrade. At daybreak, we attack!"

The men cheered, immediately agreeing. The governor could not help but to smirk. How easily he was able to bend these idiots to his will. His acid eyes gazed over his fighters, pleased to see all of them arming themselves.

That is, everyone except Elizaveta. She was glaring at him, drawing her emotions in and only showing her hate. Her eyes told her whole story- they said that the Brit was the guilty one. He frowned and returned her gaze. It silently read that she was the idiot to have fallen for it. They held.

She broke her gaze and reluctantly grabbed her gun.

Kirkland smiled again. Peter was going to be proud.

* * *

"Where is Antonio?" Romulus demanded, looking over their supply of outdated muskets. All around him were his fighters doing the same thing. Lovino and Feli were in a corner, staring at them. One with protective anger, the other with haunted fear. Their father was worried for them, but at that moment his concern had to be for the village, "I have not seen him in a while."

Heracles blinked, slowly processing the words. "I . . . have . . . not. . ."

He sighed and started cleaning the barrel. Without Sadiq- their best fighter -they were at a serious disadvantage. The English men significantly outnumbered them and wielded better weapons. They had little chance for success, but that did not matter. Romulus was not going to let his people be the doormat to these white demons. If they were going to be defeated, he was going to go with a fight.

Suddenly, Heracles was nudging at his shoulder. Discreetly, he pointed a finger across the room. "Look . . . he's . . . up," he yawned, absently petting one of his many cats.

It took the leader a few moments to realize who he was talking about. Gupta was stiffly and painfully weaving his way through the crowd of men and to the pile of weapons. The white bandage around his leg and the grimace on his face was enough indicator of the poor state he was in.

Romulus sighed and placed his gun on the ground. Swiftly, he made his way to the injured man, frowning at him. "What are you doing up?" he asked, forcing his arm over his shoulder. "You are in no position to be moving about."

Gupta's face remained its usual stone visage. "Heracles told me what happened to Sadiq," he said. Romulus looked at him with sympathy. A form of condolence rose to his throat, but the Egyptian cut him off. "I want to fight."

"You are in no condition to do so," he said. "You are far too weak and-"

"Sadiq would have done the same thing for me." The injured man's dark eyes were set with determination and stubbornness.

The village leader was silent. That was the most he had ever heard the man say. It only showed the severity of the situation. Reluctantly, the Italian sighed. "The minute it grows too dangerous, you are to run away," he ordered. "Understand?"

Gupta did not even allow a smile to form. "Yes sir."

Lovino watched the exchange intently. His papa was never going to allow Feliciano and him there. Thank goodness, he did not believe that neither he nor his brother would be able to survive.

Looking down at him, the boy observed Feli's heartbroken gaze. His thin lips trembled and his face was a dead pallid. The older one gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be dawn soon," he said, soft enough for only Feli to hear. "Let's go to Signor Jones."

He only continued to stare out blankly. "But fratello, you hate him."

"I know," he deadpanned, resisting the urge to angrily lash out. "Now get your ass moving before I change my mind."

With a little more convincing ("Damn idiota! I'm trying to be fucking nice!"), the two brothers were rowing to the glen. As Lovino paddled the oars, he noticed the stars were fading and the sky was slowly growing brighter. A somber line drew on his face. They had maybe an hour left- give or take.

When their canoe knocked on the ancient willow's roots, Feli numbly crawled onto the solid surface. Neither of the boys expected to see Francis and Antonio on their hands and knees, cleaning up the remains of Sadiq's crimson blood. Lucky for the boys, more of it was gone, soaked in the used-to-be white clothes in their hands.

Lovino jumped onto the root and groaned. "What the fuck are you bastards doing?" he asked, rubbing his sweaty hand over his face.

Antonio smiled happily, calling out to his 'little tomato'. Meanwhile, Francis smiled as softly as he could. "We're just making this place tres belle again, non?" Standing, the blonde gathered the rags and threw them far into the forest. Proudly, he flashed Feli a large smile and placed his hands on his hips. "All done. What do you think of-"

Feli suddenly wrapped his arms around the pale man's waist. Burying his face into his chest, he sobbed all of the tears we was trying to hold back. Francis looked down at him, unsure of what to say or do. Lovino was shooting him envious glares, snapping his own brotherly instinct into action.

Petting the child's auburn hair, he cooed comforting words in French. "It's alright," he said, his Italian only half-way decent. "Big brother Francis is here for you."

"Dudes, what's going on?" Signor Jones's face formed in the bark's cracks. It was frowning, wood-eyes miraculously showing worry. "What happened to Heinrich?"

Standing by Antonio, Lovino growled. "The stupid bastards think he killed the masked bastard," he reported, entwining his hand with his fiancé's. At that moment, the only thing he truly wanted was his own chest to bury himself in. But a hand could do. "They're going to kill him at dawn."

The three in the dark gasped. Antonio felt his breath grow shallow. "We have to do something!" he exclaimed, running to grab his ax. "Heinrich didn't-"

"We can't!" The two older men looked at Feli. The boy looked at the two tanned skin males with red eyes and tears stained face. His disconsolate frown and hopeless eyes made his furry seem just.

Signor Jones was the only one to regain his composure. "Feli, dude, remember your dream?" it asked. "It is pointing you down your path-"

"I was wrong!" he yelled, collapsing to his knees. Francis knelt to his height and wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders. "Signor Jones, I followed the wrong path." He buried his face in his hands. "I feel so lost."

Francis forced a smile. "Now, now. It's not all hopeless," he said. "We all lose our ways at one point of time, but sometimes we need little reminders to keep us on track."

Antonio nodded happily. "Si, like a map, or a compass, or-"

Lovino smacked him. "Stupid bastard! That's not what he meant."

An idea hit Feli. Looking up, the boy once again became aware of the compass in his pocket. Quickly pulling it out, he held the brown device in his small hands. "The compass . . ." he muttered, staring at the face. The arrow on it was spinning, trying to decide where north was.

France raised an eyebrow. "Mon cher, that are you doing?"

". . . the spinning arrow!" Feliciano jumped onto his feet, excited.

The tree grinned broadly, realizing the boy's train of thoughts. "It's the arrow from your dream!"

Lovino smacked his forehead. "You're telling me that the fucking arrow was the fucking compass this whole fucking time?" he demanded.

Antonio laughed and slapped his back. "It would seem so, mi amor."

Meanwhile, the youngest was jumping up and down excitedly. "I was right!" he exclaimed zealously. "It was pointing to him!"

Everyone there noticed the sudden increase of light. They all- even the tree -froze. The sky was turning into a light orange with a pale blue at the edges. The night was gone; morning was upon them. Francis cursed in French. "Sunrise."

"It's not too late, Feli," Signor Jones hastily said. The boy concentrated back down at the compass. The arrow was still spinning incessantly with no sign of stopping. "Let the spirits of the earth guide you!" The arrow stopped, pointing him northward. "You know your path, dude, now follow it!"

He ran.

Feliciano Vargas ran as fast as his small legs could carry him.

Antonio grabbed his ax, looking determined and deadly. "Follow him Lovi; make sure Feli gets there in time," he ordered, turning into the leader he was. His fiance took a moment to gawk before quickly chasing after him. "Francis, you find your men and make sure Gilbert does nothing stupid."

The white man nodded. "Oui, oui. But Antione, what will you do?"

He lifted his ax over his shoulder. "I'm going to find Romulus and make him stop all of this," he said. "Now get going!"

* * *

The forest of the New World was alive. From the south, Kirkland lead his army to the believed location of their Italian enemies. Victory was so close in the Brit's hands. Meanwhile, in the North, Romulus ordered his men to bring the prisoner outside. Heinrich grinded his teeth together as he was dragged across the ground and into the new light. With little reluctance, the leader ordered his men to follow him to the cliff where all punishment- executions -were held.

Feli and Lovino tried to beat the rising sun. The younger brother muttered Italian prayers under his breath, hoping that he was not too late. After a long whole of harsh breathing and pounding feet, they came upon the cliff.

Already, there was a crowd of soldiers gathered around, intently watching as Heinrich was forced to kneel, head bowed. Feeling his heart shake in fear, Feli pushed through them, trying to reach him before Romulus put the gun's barrel to his lover's head.

At the forest below, the Englishmen were emerging. At the sight of their captured comrade, many of them were too stunned to even raise their guns. Governor Kirkland smirked, feeling joy of the coming together of his well-oiled plan. Something like this would surely motivate his men into killing every last Italian.

Gilbert blazed with a protective rage. He raised his musket high, aiming for Romulus's head. Before he could fire, Elizaveta strongly grabbed his arm. He glared at her, demanding that she let him kill the bastard. "Trust me," she hissed.

Fully aware of his new audience, Romulus took a long breath and raised his gun. He was going to make an example of the kneeling German before him. Somberly, he pointed the weapon at Heinrich's head and tightened his trigger finger.

"Stop!"

Romulus stopped before the trigger could be firmly squeezed. He stared at his youngest son, unsure that what he was seeing was real. Feli stood in front of the prisoner, hands stretched far and shielding him with his body. Nothing in his small frame spoke of defiance. The boy's brown eyes gleamed with a strong normality. Romulus looked down at him, begging to now the reason why.

Panting heavily, his son said, "Papa, if you kill him you'll have to kill me, too."

The Italians exchanged glances and raised their guns. They could sense a fight coming a mile away. The English raised their guns as well, but they were more hesitant. None of them- Gilbert being the exception -could understand what was being said. Still, they did not want to fight. Shooting just might get their captured comrade killed.

"Gilbert." Said man looked at the woman restraining him. Her green eyes were alight with awe and something deeper, something he could not place. "What are they saying?" she asked.

Gilbert pressed his lips. In preparation for taking over his vatti's company, he had learned most of the Romance languages. "That girl told him not to kill Heinrich," he relayed, unable to fully grasp what he was hearing. "I think she might be his daughter."

Romulus furrowed his eyebrows together. Creases dug into his forehead. "Figlio, stand back," he ordered, gripping his musket's butt tighter.

Elizaveta frowned, seeing her friend's eyes grow wide. "What did he say?" she asked.

"He just called his daughter his son," he breathed, looking a bit more than a little freaked out. "Gott, Italians are so unawesome."

Feli, concentrating only on his father, shook his head. "I won't!" he shouted. His breath was still shallow, but there was a strength that had never showed itself before. Francis and Antonio finally joined the ranks of the their men. Both of them had looks of pride in their awed visages. "I love him, Papa."

Romulus's eyes grew wide. That was why; that was the reason for his son's odd behavior. His grip on the weapon loosened slightly. "Look around you," Feli continued. "This is where the our hatred has brought us. Vee, is this really what you want?" The child turned slightly to Heinrich.

He was speechless, uncomprehending what was happening before him. Was the silly child he met by the waterfall really here before him? Feli wrapped his thin arms around Heinrich's neck. "This is the path I choose, Papa. What will yours be?"

The village leader was silent for a long moment. His son's spirit reminded him of himself when he was young. Flirting with every woman in Europe. The strong love he held for Helen . . .

Romulus glanced at him men. The motion caused the Italians to raise their guns higher. In return, Kirkland signaled his men to copy them. He noticed Antonio standing by Lovino, ax in the ground, shaking his head at him. Even the Spaniard did not want the violence. Standing by the lovers was the injured Gupta, struggling to keep his consciousness.

Making his resolve, Romulus took his gun in both hands and raised it above his head. Voice rising above them like a incoming storm, he declared, "My son speaks with wisdom beyond his years. We've all come here with anger in our hearts, but he comes with courage and understanding. From this day forward, if there is to be more killing, it will not start with me."

He snapped to the guards. "Release him."

Exchanging hesitant looks, they pulled out a knife and moved to the German. Efficiently, they lifted Heinrich to his feet and cut away the ropes. They fell away easily, revealing sore wrist. Looking happier than thought possible, Heinrich rubbed at them and smiled at his lover.

Without another word, he wrapped his strong arms around him and embraced him.

Kirkland's lip curled. His perfectly ingenious plan was falling apart before his eyes. Growling, he unsheathed his decorative sword and pointed it at the cliff. "Now's our chance," he yelled. "Fire!"

"Non!" The Englishmen turned to see Francis lurking behind them. He was covered in scratches, mud, and blood. In no way did he look fine, but there was an undying look of determination in his eyes.

The governor stared at him, mouth agape in incomprehension. "Francis, where have you been," he demanded, feeling a wave of relief crash over him. Now King Feliks won't hang him for starting another Hundred Years War. "We all thought you were dead."

He shook his head. "That does not matter," he replied. "The Italians do not want to fight."

All the euphoria Kirkland had previously felt quickly melted away. "Bloody git, why should I do that?" he snapped. By now, every Englishman was listening and watching this battle for dominance. "They're going to kill Beilschmidt-"

"They let him go."

"How do we know that they aren't going to turn and kill us?"

"In his speech!" Francis pointed a finger at Romulus. "He said that he was not going to hurt anyone, right Gilbert?" All eyes focused on the Prussian. They all wanted verification, proof of what the Frenchman said was true.

The albino sighed reluctantly. "The Italians are being awesome and letting mein bruder go," he said. He gripped his gun tighter before snarling and throwing it to the ground. "If they aren't going to fight, then neither should we!"

"It's a trick, don't you see?" Kirkland frantically exchanged glances at all of his men. Every single one was frowning and shoot him glares. Desperately, he pointed his sword higher. "Fire!" No one moved.

Kirkland saw everything fall into the fray. His gold, his glory, his son . . . it was all gone . . .

Acid eyes blazing with fire, he snatched Gilbert's gun off the ground. "Fine, I'll settle this myself." He aimed at the tallest and closest person on the cliff.

Still hugging Feli, Heinrich heard the words. He quickly looked at the gun and, with his eyes, trailed up to the target: Romulus.

"No!" In a split second, Feli was thrown to the side and Heinrich was falling to the ground in front of the father. A flood of dark red blood flowed through the cracks between his fingers. Immediately, Feli leaped to his side, crying and begging him to stay alive. Meanwhile, Romulus searched for the source of the bullet.

He was pleased with the sight at the cliff's base.

"Du Schwein!" Gilbert screamed, lashing at the shooter. His fist made painful contact with Kirkland's face, sending him to the ground. Not a second later, he was straddled on top of his, wrapping his hands around his victim's throat. "You shot mein bruder!"

Kirkland gagged and choked, trying to make distinguishable words. After a few moments, Francis rose to the governor's defense. "Gilbert, that's enough," he ordered, pulling him away. "Heinrich jumped in front of it; it's his own fault."

The albino snarled. "That bastard should not have been firing in the first place!"

Rodderich stood by Elizaveta. He was more than happy that the fighting was finally over. Still, the brunette could not help but to say out loud. "You know, even if it was an accident, Kirkland could still be charged with murder."

The Hungarian looked at him. "Really?" A devious smile drew onto her lips. With more force than the blond, she yanked Gilbert to his feet. "Enough of that," she ordered, sounding like an angry mother. Before the man could lash out, she shoved him towards the cliff. "Go make sure your brother is still alive."

Completely forgetting his rage, Gilbert ran to do just that. Frowning, she turned her attention back to Kirkland. He had a hand over his throat, coughing and regaining his breath. Smiling cruelly, the brunette knelt to his height. "You've been a slipshod sailor and a poor excuse for a governor." she quoted, no longer feeling fearful of him. "Even for a man. You wouldn't have the opportunity to disappoint me again. You are under arrest for the shooting of Heinrich Beilschmidt. Men, arrest him!"

Berwald and Matthias were more than happy to do so. As they quickly bound the Brit's hands, he glared at her, barking obscenities not fitting for a 'gentleman'.

All Elizaveta did was smirk. Show no evil, show no fear.

Quickly, she hurried to the path at the side of the cliff, prepared to join Gilbert and Feli at Heinrich's side.

* * *

"Do you think he's going to make it, Elizaveta?" The Hungarian paused in her work. It had been nearly a week since that fateful shooting. Things had been hectic. All of them- English and Italian -did their best to heal the invalid, but their efforts were going to waste. It was only the day after did Heinrich suggest to go back to England. With a debate, they agreed to prepare the ship.

Trying to return to her duty of loading the luggage, she concentrated her attention to the speaker, Gilbert. "The sooner he gets back to England, the better," she replied somberly. She would have liked to leave it off at that, but his crimson eyes were yearning for an elaboration. "He's injured really badly, Gil," she said, placing a hand on his shoulders. Even as she spoke, tears were welling in her eyes. "It'll take a miracle for him to make it."

The Prussian nodded, looking down at the ground. His white hair was greasy from days of bad hygiene. "Well the awesome me is going with him," he said, trying to sound confident, but even that was failing. "I'll make sure he makes it!"

She could not help but to smile, saying, "Heinrich is lucky to have a brother like you." She returned to her job, securing a few cloth bags on a row boat to shore. A pale hand touched hers. Looking up, she saw- to her amazement -Gilbert full of seriousness.

"Are you staying here?" he asked, holding her hand in his. The Hungarian nodded. "I'm going to be going with mein bruder." He took a long breath. "We'll probably never see each other again."

"Yes, I know." Elizaveta placed her other hand over their joined ones, protecting it like a precious speck of gold dust. She couldn't say exactly what was on her mind, but she knew Gilbert could live never hearing those words. "It'll be a lot quieter without you."

"Ja, I know." They were both quiet for a long moment. At last, Gilbert gently raised her hands and pressed them to his lips. Even she could not help but to blush at the gentle kiss. "Elizaveta, promise me that you'll forget the awesome me and hook up with someone? Preferably Rodderich." She looked at him as if he was crazy. "What? He told me once that he really liked you-"

Fiercely, she yanked her hands away. "What made you think that I even care about you?" she demanded, still blushing a vivid shade of red. "You've been nothing but a pain in my ass!" Folding her arms over her chest, she added, "And that's why I'm never going to forget you!"

"What are you two talking about?" Rodderich asked, completely oblivious to their topic of discussion. "I heard my name . . ." He was rightly ignored.

If Gilbert found some form of comfort in the girl's words (he did), he did not show it. "Fine, be that way!" He snapped angrily. "Just go ahead and be an arschloch."

"Fine then, you fattyú!" The Hungarian marched away angrily, muttering about how much of an headache he was. She barely heard the Austrian ask the albino what they were talking about.

Trying to forget Gilbert Beilschmidt, Elizaveta scanned the bustling shore for a distraction. A few yards away, she noted Kirkland being thrown into an empty row boat. He was being guarded by Berwald and Vladimir. The Brit, gagged and bound, yelled incoherent insults and threats.

His once faithful servant, Tao, stood at the side, sighing with melancholy. "And he, like, came so highly recommended."

Shaking her head, the girl further searched for a source of entertainment. She found it a few feet away where Heinrich laid on his stretcher. Tino and Vash were tending to him, reminding him of every danger to infection. The German, however, barely paid them any heed. His eyes were concentrating on the forest behind them.

Sighing, she came up to him, shooing the other men away. Tino and Vash were happy to oblige, giving their hero one last goodbye before leaving them alone. Elizaveta knelt down to Heinrich, smiling softly. "The ship's almost ready," she told him. "We'd better get you on board or we'll lose the tide."

"Nein, not yet," Heinrich begging, still gazing wistfully into the forest. "He said he'd be here."

The woman ran her hand over his blond hair, biting her lips guiltily. She could see the bandage around his stomach from under his white shirt. There was a small trace of blood among the crisp white. A foreboding feeling overcame her. "Heinrich, why are you doing this?" she asked suddenly. "You'll have a better chance at survival if you stay here. So why are you . . ."

"I'm going to die, Elizaveta." She gasped and covered her mouth. The peaceful smile on his lips only brought tears to her eyes. Heinrich rested his head on his pillow, staring up at the sky. "There is no way I'm going to ever recover from a bullet wound like this," he said. "But I don't want Feli to experience the pain of my passing. I'll rather leave suddenly and leave him wondering then have him crying for the rest of his life. He deserves better."

Elizaveta heard the Italians coming before he did. A hand still over her mouth, she silently pointed a shaking finger at them. Heinrich strained his neck to see a dozen of them breaking through the forest line. Led by Feli, they all held baskets of perishable food. Among them were Antonio, Lovino, Romulus, Gupta, and countless others.

In an offering of peace, they all gently placed them on the soft grass.

By now, every Englishman had noticed their presence. They all stared in awe, unsure of what to think of the display. Feli pulled a small cloth bag from his basket before skipping over to his lover. Elizaveta, unable to take the sight, ran away to Rodderich's arms.

"I brought you something!" Feli sang, pretending not to notice the dire wounds. He planted himself by Heinrich's side all while smiling brightly. Placing the bag in his hand, he said, "Here. It's from Signor Jones's bark. It'll help with the pain."

"Having you here is enough for me," he replied smoothly. With a smile, "But I'll make sure to use it."

Romulus and Lovino came to his other side. One was smiling while the other one was looking away with a scowl. To Heinrich, it was a charming sight to see the whole Vargas family together in peace. "You saved my life," Romulus said, placing a folded blanket on the German. As he spread it over the stretcher- instantly warming him -he said, "You are always welcome among our people. Grazie, my son."

"I can't believe you're leaving!" Francis cried, supported by Antonio. Feli, Romulus, and Heinrich could not help but to chuckle. Lovino just snapped for the 'wine bastard' to shut up. They both stole the empty spots by Feli's sides.

Grinning brightly, the single Spaniard nodded. "Si, it'll be lonely here without you."

Heinrich chuckled again. "I don't understand why you're both staying here," he said. "You guys have promising careers in Europe."

The blond shrugged. "Antoine is assigned to be here-"

"But I still wouldn't leave my fiancé behind!" he leaped over to the boy. "Come here, Lovi~!"

The Italian fell back as he was hugged and ravished by the man. "Get the fuck off of me, bastard!" He screeched, begging for his Papa's help. The man only laughed.

Francis continued, "And I rather like it here. No stick-in-the-mud rosebiffs to worry about. Plus-" He leaned in and whispered, "How can I ever pass up on an ass like Antione's? Which reminds me . . ."

Feli's brown eyes watched intently as the Frenchman theatrically reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. From it hung the Beilschmidt family's iron cross. "Ta-da! All fixed!"

The Italian boy clapped excitedly, squealing compliments and amazements. Heinrich delicately took the necklace and held it in the air. "It looks as good as new," he breathed, watching the sun glint off the old metal. It felt good to hold it, but . . . "Here." The German extended his hand to his lover. "I gave it to you so it's yours."

Feli looked ready to accept it, but a look from his father told him otherwise. "Vee, you should keep it," he said, pushing his hand back. "You said that your papa gave it to you, si? You want to him see it again when you return to England."

Heinrich laughed. "He's such a serious man; he'll love to get a load of you."

The boy jumped in his spot, saying, "I should come with you!"

The white man paused. As much as he wanted to be with Feliciano Vargas, he could not let the boy live in such despair. Feeling weaker than before, his cold hand cupped the boy's cheek. "Your family needs you here," he said. "And you need to stay where you're needed."

Feli frowned. "But I love you."

As his brother freaked out, Heinrich smiled. "And I love you too and that's why I want you to stay here where you're safe. But . . ." Feli leaned in, anticipating something important. Taking a long, painful breath, his lover said, "If I don't return in a year, I want you to forget about me. Find someone else to love, understand?"

Every person but the boy felt the weight on those words. Many took their hats off and lowered their heads. The Italians made the sign of the cross. It was so clear: The German was planning on leaving this world and never coming back.

Not reading the atmosphere, Feli lightly pecked his lips. "You'll be with me forever," he said. "With Mama."

Feeling ready to cry, Heinrich did the one thing he could think of. He placed his hand on the back of Feli's head and brought his face closer to his. They kissed for a long moment, tangling their hands in each other's hair. Warmth passed between them as both of them felt their love grow stronger.

At last, they parted for air. Almost immediately, Gilbert nudged his brother's shoulder. "We have to go now," he said softly. "We're going to miss the unawesome tides." With a numbed nod, the Prussian had the right to carry him away.

Together with Rodderich, they lifted the stretcher and carried him to a row boat. The whole walk, Feli held his hand, silently begging for him to stay. They placed him in the boat and kicked off into the water.

Feli stayed on shore, watching with tearful eyes as they rowed to their ship. He barely noticed Romulus placing a strong, reassuring hand on his shoulder. "It's for the best," he comforted.

The boy didn't answer. He only stared out, barely listening to Antonio tease Lovino for crying silent tears. "Aw, you must have really liked him, mi amor!"

"I don't like him, damnit!" The other Vargas snapped, wiping away his tears. "I'm glad the bastard is gone!"

For a moment, Feli turned to see his brother fighting away his fiancé's hug as Francis seeked a way to touch _it_. He saw Elizaveta crying and hugging Rodderich for comfort. What a sad, sad scene. But, during that moment, the ship Heinrich and Gilbert stayed on started to sail away.

When his brown eyes returned to it, a wave a panic seized him.

"No!"

Before anyone could stop him, Feli was running after it. Through the thick trees and brush, he ran as fast as his thin legs could carry him. They ached, but he was determined to stay at pace with the 'strange clouds'. Soon, his legs were aching but he did not care. He had to beat that ship.

At last, the land inclined upward and the trees died away. Open air surround the cliff looking out over the Atlantic Ocean. Feli stopped right at the edge, seeing the ship sail away from him. Tears fell from his eyes as he desperately yearned for it to turn around.

But the feeling soon disappeared. The wind- Helen Vargas -blew around him, wrapping her comforting arms around his lanky body. Along with the leaves, his tears were carried out into the open and to the boat.

On deck, Gilbert sat next to Heinrich's stretcher. He looked up, noticing the wind blowing into the sails and making them depart faster. Nudging his brother, he exclaimed at the beauty of their 'awesome' colors.

Heinrich gave a wry smile and looked at the slowly shrinking New World. He could see the cliff and a small figure standing at it. He didn't need to be told who it was.

Remembering their first meeting, Heinrich pressed the tips of his fingers to his lips and blew a goodbye kiss to him.

Little did he know, a crying Feli was doing the exact same thing.

Yet, they both could feel each other's lips on their own.

As the wind continued to blow and his green dress continued to flutter around him, Feli realized something. "_I'm never going to see Heinrich ever again." _ The thought only made him cry more.

Later, long after the boat was gone and Heinrich Beilschmidt with it, Feli sat on that very same cliff with his drawing pad. Diligently, he drew his face over and over again, promising his heart to never forget.

If he never knew him, Feli was sure he would have no idea of how precious life and love could be.

* * *

Many years had passed since that day. Feliciano Vargas was now a grown lad, past those awkward teenage years and into a full-fledged adult. But he never acted it. As Francis would describe it, "It's as if mon cher was stuck in the mindset of a little boy." No one really minded- Elizaveta adored the idea of having someone childish to play with her son, Heinrich Edelstein.

Lovino did a have few qualms about it. When he wasn't pretending not to be worried about his upcoming wedding, he was cursing about his brother's immaturity.

But Feli did not care. The years had been kind to him in many ways but one.

Every day, without fail, the Italian would travel to Felikstown for news from England. After rejoicing at the imprisonment of Arthur Kirkland, he was left wondering where his Heinrich was. Neither he nor Gilbert sent anyone any letters. A few years back, Elizaveta tried telling him that the boy was dead, but he refused to believe it.

After all, Heinrich would never do that to him. Right?

On that particular day in winter, the boy was in town seeking a present for Lovino and Antonio's wedding. Many people were already planning on giving them tomato plants, but Feli wanted to get something super special. He skipped through the growing fort- now a town filled with pale people -thinking about the possibilities. "_Maybe I can get them a tomato flavored cake," _he thought zealously. "_Fratello would really-"_ He crashed into something hard.

"Ah, Mi dispiace!" He cried, rubbing the aching area on his head. "I didn't see you there! Please don't kill me! I have a cousin in Fra-"

"What in Gott's name are you talking about?" Feli paused and looked up.

Heinrich was staring down at him.

The Italian breathed in sharply. In a split second, he hand his arms around his neck. "You came back~!" He cried before kissing him sweetly on the lips.

The only problem was that Heinrich did not return the kiss.

Feli broke away and immediately realized his mistake. The Heinrich he knew had warm blue eyes. The man before him had blue eyes colder than ice and snow. "_But everything fits Heinrich perfectly," _he thought, jumping away from the glaring shocked man. "_Even his hair feels like Heinrich's . . ."_

"Why in Gott's name did you do that?" The tall stranger asked, trying his best to hide his small blush. "Is that traditional in the colonies?"

The boy could not help but to smile. "Si, of course! It's how we Italians say 'ciao!'" He replied, smiling brightly. "I'm Feliciano Vargas, who are you?"

A long sigh. "I'm Ludwig Beilschmidt." The boy's brown eyes went wide. He even had the same name. Before he could even dwell on the fact any longer, the apparent German scratched the back of his head. "I'm an envoy from Germany and I need to talk to the leader of the Italian colonies, your vatti. Can you take me to him?"

Feli pushed away his suspicions and smiled again. "Si!, of course!" He excitedly took his hand and started dragging him to his home. Along the way, he rambled on about his home life and how nice the food was.

Ludwig gave the occasional grunt.

Ludwig may not have been Heinrich, but there was a comfort in the familiar feeling in his heart and Feliciano Vargas had no plans of ever letting that go.

**-End-**

* * *

**MW: **It's been so long that I've actually forgotten half of the stuff I'd written in this. In fact, I was bugged with how short the chapters were that I just combined the last three together.

**BFTL: **Don't forget your terrible third person skills.

**MW: **I'm working on it. So yeah, I no longer have to worry about this story anymore. Yippe! I'm done. Review if you want.

**Translations**

"Ó Istenem . . ." Oh my God. Hungarian.

"Figlio" Son. Italian.

"Du Schwein!" You bastard. German.

"Fattyú" Bastard. Hungarian.

"Mi dispiace." I'm sorry


End file.
